


Underneath

by BlueberryToasterTart



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, HTTYD - Freeform, Hiccstrid - Freeform, rtte
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueberryToasterTart/pseuds/BlueberryToasterTart
Summary: Princess Astrid has always known her kingdom would one day rest on her shoulders. She expected the responsibility. She did not expect a young squire named Hiccup Haddock, son of the notable Knight Commander. Hiccstrid Royal AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Likewise with my other story, I post mainly on Fan Fiction, but I'm posting them here too.

 

Chapter 1

 

“Rise and shine, Ma’am,” came the sultry voice of Lady Heather, mimicking the foreign accent of the regular servant.

Heather yanked back the thick curtains of the bed. Bright, invasive morning flooded into the sanctuary of the bed. Astrid didn’t jump or stir; she’d woken up before Heather had entered the room.

“Seriously, it’s morning,” Heather said. “Quite a late start for a princess. Are you feeling alright?”

“Of course,” Astrid said. She rolled onto her back. Heather stood at the bedside, hands on her hips, radiant in green and silver. Her dark hair had been tied back into an elaborate braid. Astrid swiveled her head on her own hair, a mess between her and the pillow. “I’m not looking forward to today. That’s all.”

Heather harrumphed. “What’s not to look forward to? Young men in armor, beating each other up…it sounds great.”

Astrid pulled herself from the pillow and pushed the plushy blankets down. Might as well get it over with. “Fine. Where’s Helga?”

“Oh, she’s helping your mother with something. I didn’t ask questions, so don’t ask me what they’re doing,” Heather said, waving her hand dismissively. “The point is that I’ve been given the task of getting you up and dressed and presentable for the ceremony. So, let’s go, Princess, you’ve got a bad case of bed-head.”

Heather picked a strand of yellow hair from Astrid’s head and flicked it aside. She laughed.

Astrid stood and stretched her hands to the tall ceiling dappled with sunlight. The stained glass in the topmost pane of the window shone red and yellow on the shined, white-painted panels. After a bath, Heather helped Astrid to towel-dry her hair, oil it into submission, and braid it as carefully as if it were threaded gold.

She dressed in a red and gold gown, and Heather tied it. Astrid lifted the golden crown from its polished wooden box, and placed it on her head; by sacred law, Heather’s hands were not allowed to touch it. Only a sanctified or royal hand could touch the crown.

Three guards, all in Berk’s shined silver suits, waited on the other side of Astrid’s wide bedroom door. At once they all took a knee, right hand on their left breast, over the heart.

“Princess,” they spoke together, words muffled by their metal helmets, which bore the crest of Berk, a winding dragon curved around a pointed sword.

The three guardsmen walked alongside Astrid, metal plates clicking together as they stepped. Heather walked beside her. The entire palace seemed to buzz, silently, as if too much noise might wake the portraits. They hung on nearly every wall, of stern-looking dignitaries, respected politicians, magistrates, royals, and honored civilians. In the west wing, a painting of a popular magician hung.

The guards escorted Astrid and Heather to the main dining hall. The room could seat as many as fifty people at its long table, but typically sat less than ten.

Astrid’s father, King Arvid, sat at the head of the table. His pointed crown shone in the light that flickered from the hundreds of candles above. Queen Lenora sat to his right, a beauty in gold. Astrid’s younger brother of fifteen, Prince Tegard, sat to their father’s right. He need a haircut. Astrid sat to her mother’s left, across from her brother.

“About time,” King Arvid said. “I was beginning to think you weren’t waking up.”

“And miss the induction?” Astrid said with mock enthusiasm. “I would never.”

“Oh, darling, stop that,” said her mother. “No one likes a smart tongue.”

The doors leading into the kitchens opened, and a small army of white-clad servants carried covered silver platters to the table. A platter set in front of each of them, and the lids were lifted in learned unison. Each plate had been made to the eater’s preference. Astrid’s plate held eggs, peppercorn sausage, and a thick slice of pan-fried toast.

“Eat up,” King Arvid warned. “Today will be a long day.”

Tegard stuffed a sausage into his mouth. “Why do I have to sit through the ceremony?”

“You’re the prince,” King Arvid said, as though he and his son had had this conversation many times before. “It is your duty.”

“Not really,” Tegard said. He took a bite of eggs and swallowed without chewing. “I don’t control the Royal Knights. That’s your job. When it’s not your job anymore it’ll be Astrid’s job.”

“That’s no way to look at things,” Queen Lenora said. “What if something happened? What if Astrid got sick? What if she has no children? You’d be second in line for the throne, Tegard. You’ve responsibilities.”

Tegard sighed. He continued to eat without arguing further.

Astrid pushed her eggs around on the plate. When it wasn’t her father’s job, it would be her job. As heir to the throne, all royal duties would pass to her, regardless of marriage, because her blood held the royalty; she would be the true royal, whereas her husband would be royal by marriage.

After the meal, King Arvid and Queen Lenora led the way through the antechamber and into the main hall, where a crowd of Knights, guardsmen, magistrates, and other important leaders had gathered to watch the induction ceremony of the new squires. The ceremony took place once every five years, and gave the kingdom something to celebrate.

The crowd silenced at the horn which announced King Arvid’s arrival. All stood. Astrid did as she had always done, and stepped in line after her parents. They stood in front of the grand line of thrones, her father’s the grandest, with the great hall before them. Hundreds, possibly thousands of candles burned on the chandeliers above them, suspended by shined silver chains. Sunlight blazed in through the tall windows.

The air stilled, as if a collective breath had been held.

King Arvid held up his hands to the room, and spoke in a booming voice. “Today we welcome these fine young men into the royal order, as squires. Today we recognize these young men for their valor, for each has proved himself in the trials in order to stand where he stands today.”

Twenty or so young men stood in a line in the middle of the floor. No women, Astrid noted. Knight Farley, the only female Knight, stood with an impassive expression on the floor. It had not yet been a week since she and Astrid had talked of more women in the order.

Stoick the Vast, a grand Knight in his youth, led the order. He stood in his shined armor, a head taller than most other men. An intense, but weary expression had replaced his usual cheerful demeanor. He held his gaze on the group of young squires as if he suspected one of them of treason.

Some of the young men looked as young as thirteen. Most looked to be in their twenties. One man looked to have gray in his brown hair.

“Today we welcome these young men as allies, friends, and fellows into these grounds, so that they may learn what it is to be a Knight, what it means to vow their lives, and the dedication, determination, and perseverance it requires,” King Arvid said. While he spoke, no one in the room so much as uttered a word.

Astrid caught the gaze of a stocky young man. His black hair had been combed straight back. He winked.

She tightened her fingers into her fists, fighting to maintain her passive expression. Such nerve. If she could participate, she would knock his teeth out.

“Let the induction ceremony begin,” King Arvid said.

A horn blew through the hall, sounding the start, and King Arvid sat. Astrid sat down beside her mother, grateful that her brother sat on the other side of their father. He’d been complaining for weeks how he should be allowed in the order; he’d been training since he could walk. According to King Arvid, he wasn’t old enough. Astrid understood what he meant, whereas Tegard didn’t. Tegard wasn’t mature enough.

The first young man stepped up to the throne. He placed his hand over his heart, and bent onto one knee. He said, “Roger Ogler, of Rachel and Samson Ogler.”

“Rise Squire Ogler,” King Arvid said. “May the gods watch over you.”

Rightly named by the king, the newly titled squire rose, bowed again, and walked to the side of the group. The next stepped up, repeated, and after the king bestowed the title of ‘squire,’ he stepped aside.

A tall, wiry young man with braided blond hair stepped onto the platform. He bowed. “Tuffnut Thorston, of Mr. and Mrs. Thorston.”

King Arvid hesitated, and glanced at Stoick, who shrugged. King Arvid trusted Stoick’s judgment, and knew that he wouldn’t let just anyone into the ranks.

“Rise, Squire Thorston. May the gods watch over you.”

Tuffnut stood, and joined the others.

The next in the line made Astrid blink; he could have been Tuffnut’s twin. He, too, had long blond hair tied into braids.

“Ruffnut Thorston, of Mr. and Mrs. Thorston.”

Twin sister. Astrid glanced between the two, definitely twins. Knight Farley, despite the rules of Knight’s impassivity, grinned. Whispers went around the entire room as the sudden news spread.

“Good,” Queen Lenora said under her breath to Astrid. “The order could use more women.”

King Arvid cleared his throat. “Rise, Squire Thorston. May the gods be with you.”

Squire Ruffnut Thorston walked with pride to the line, and stood beside her brother with a grin. Many people in the room stared at her, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all.

“Did they know that she was a woman?” Astrid asked her mother.

She smiled faintly. “I doubt it. Several of the young men look surprised. Probably shouldn’t let those into the order. They’re not very perceptive.”

The stocky young man pushed several others out of his way to the front. He bowed deeply, then took his knee. “Snotlout Jorgenson, of Spitelout and Bertha Jorgenson.”

“Oh,” Queen Lenora murmured. “It doesn’t need any more Jorgensons.”

“Is that Stoick’s brother?”

“Brother-in-law, he’d quickly correct you,” Queen Lenore whispered. “Hates whole lot of them.”

“Rise, Squire Jorgenson,” King Arvid said with strain. “May the gods be with you.”

Snotlout’s gaze lingered on Astrid, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He joined the others.

One of the young men that Snotlout shoved stepped up. Stoick watched his every move. Tall, thin, with soft green eyes, the young man didn’t look like a knight. He looked like someone to be found in a library.

“Hiccup Haddock, of Stoick and Valka Haddock,” the young man said.

A hum went through the room. Many eyes cast toward Stoick, who kept his eyes pinned on the young man. King Arvid leaned forward, hand on his knee. Hiccup Haddock paled, and held his gaze on the floor, as the others did before their name was called.

“Is that so?” King Arvid asked, smirking. “Well done. Rise, Squire Haddock. May the gods be with you.”

Hiccup stood, and bowed toward the king. He walked to the line of squires, past his father, who made no move to congratulate him.

“That is Stoick’s son?” Astrid asked. “Stoick is huge and Hiccup is so…small.”

Queen Lenora spoke lowly, “That’s what ‘Hiccup’ means. He’s a runt.”

“That’s a cruel name.”

“I didn’t name him.”

Astrid looked toward Stoick, who followed his son to the line of squires.

It seemed as though several others in the hall thought the same thing, for many still whispered and looked toward the squires. Hiccup, unlike Ruffnut, kept his eyes on the floor.

Queen Lenora whispered, “I’ve heard he’s a bit…clumsy. An embarrassment to his father.”

“And he wants to be a knight?”

Queen Lenora smiled. “It would seem so.”

Astrid ignored the large blond boy that stepped to the platform. Hiccup kept his gaze at the floor. Stoick didn’t acknowledge him.

Stoick had always been a figure in her life. He’d been the symbol of protection. The Knights protected the palace and the royal family. They trained in combat, how to spot predators and threats, and how to stop them without a mess or trouble. Often she would not know about a threat until after the fact; Stoick and his Knights had reacted so swiftly, so quickly, as to stop it before it happened.

She’d always admired Stoick, but she never considered what it would be like to have such a man as a father.

Hiccup glanced up, and for a moment his gaze flickered in Astrid’s direction. Their eyes met; Hiccup blinked, but Astrid held her gaze. He stiffened, and his slightly slouched shoulders popped into perfect posture. He looked forward. He blinked, and gazed back to Astrid, who hadn’t turned her eyes off him.

There was something about Hiccup Haddock. He was not like the others. Different, but not wrongly so. 

She held her stare until her father stood. She stood, too.

“That concludes the induction ceremony,” King Arvid said. “Would the squires please make their way outside into the courtyard. There are vows that must be taken.”

The Knights led the quires into the courtyard outside. Palace walls surrounded the courtyard on three sides. The fourth side led into a flowery atrium.

The new squires stood in lines, and recited the rite as Stoick read it to them, “I, as a squire, take responsibility for becoming a Knight of the Royal Order. I will not compromise my duties to the crown. I will protect. I will serve. I will obey. I will learn. I will become a knight.”

Astrid watched this from a balcony overlooking the courtyard. Twice she caught Hiccup Haddock’s glance, although she looked at him more often.

Stoick led his squires to their quarters, a quiet corridor underneath the east wing, where the Knights lived. They matched out in their rows.

“Interesting bunch,” King Arvid said. “How many do you think will drop out in the first week?”

“At least three,” Queen Lenora said.

“Last time seven of them dropped out,” King Arvid said with a sigh.

“I bet Hiccup Haddock will drop out,” Prince Tegard jeered. He bent his elbow into Astrid’s side. “He’s too busy making googly eyes.”

“Shut it.” Astrid grabbed his wrist and bent his arm back.

Tegard cried out, and Astrid bent his arm harder.

“Astrid,” King Arvid said. “Don’t break your brother’s arm.”

Astrid let go. Tegard glared, rubbing his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Chapter 2

 

               Astrid sat in the shaded royal stands that overlooked the walled-in fencing court. During the summer, traveling shows stopped by and performed their daring stunts of athleticism, acrobatics, and fire-breathing; today the squires used it to test their abilities with a blade. Blunt blades, of course. Wouldn’t want a squire losing an arm so quickly into the tournament.

               The duel would provide the order in which the squires would follow during their training. They would duel one on one, until the ranks had been decided.

               “Fine day for this,” Queen Lenora said. “Not a cloud in the sky. Gentle eastward breeze. Autumn on the air.”

               Tegard, slumped in his chair beside his father, sighed.

               “Sit up straight,” King Arvid said at once. “You’re a prince. Act like it.”

               “If I’m a prince, I should get to do whatever I please,” Tegard said without looking at his father.

               “Being a prince means you wear the crown with pride. Each child of the kingdom is a child of yours, rich or poor,” King Arvid said. “Kings that do as they please are often beheaded by their own followers, righteous upstarts, and revolutionaries.”

               “Not if I have then jailed first.”

               “Who would put them in jail?”

               “My knights.”

               “And if those knights mutinied against you?”

               Tegard paused, then rolled his eyes. “I’d throw them in jail.”

               “But if those who enforce the law break it, who enforces the law to them?” King Arvid said. When Tegard didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “Kings rules justly over all. Tyrants rules with fear and destruction. If your people turn again you, you are a ruler no longer.”

               Tegard huffed. He pushed his back against the chair, but when his father turned his attention elsewhere, slumped again.

               Astrid held her shoulders firm; her father would not catch her slumping.

               The first two squires took to the court; Snotlout Jorgenson and the large blond boy. They began to fight.

               “Snotlout has strength, but he’s just flailing the sword,” King Arvid said.

               “That other boy is Fishlegs Ingerman,” Queen Lenora said to Astrid. “His parents own the Ingerman Orchard and Bakery. Best apple pies in the kingdom.”

               “He’s large, but he’s not very intimidating,” Astrid said to her mother.

               Fishlegs countered Snotlout’s fierce blows, but never made the move to counterattack. Snotlout’s blade smacked Fighlegs’s calf.

               “Hit!” Stoick shouted from the court’s side. “Snotlout wins the duel.”

               Two knights kept score on a smooth wooden plank. Snotlout moved up a rank. He held his sword above his head and let out a roar.

               “What a braggart,” Astrid said. “He’s won a single round.”

               Queen Lenora let out a short groan. “Just like his father.”

               The rounds continued. Snotlout moved up the ranks, winning duel after duel; the only two combatants that gave him trouble were Tuffnut Thorston, who screamed like a manic and in Snotlout’s daze, poked him in the chest with his sword, and Hiccup Haddock; which to Astrid’s surprise moved about the court like his feet had minds of their own, with a clumsy grace that bewildered her. Hiccup and Snotlout danced about the court, dodging and clanking metal against metal. Hiccup had speed. Snotlout had strength.

               Astrid wanted Hiccup, the runt, to best the bully in the match. However, he didn’t. Snotlout won the match, although Hiccup had lasted longer than any of the others.

               “I see why Stoick let him into the tournament,” King Arvid said. “Boy’s quick on his feet. Light in battle. With training, he could be useful.”

               “He looks like his mother,” Queen Lenora said. “She had that flighty sense about her. Brilliant woman, but a little strange.”

               Brilliant but strange. Those words fit Hiccup Haddock.

               Hiccup hadn’t finished last, but he hadn’t finished first, either. He’d landed near the middle, along with Fishlegs who’d found his courage after the defeat with Snotlout. Snotlout, however, had finished first.

               “Oi! Oi! Oi!” Snotlout shouted.

               “Gods,” Queen Lenora said. “ _Just_ like his father.”

               “Since the ceremony is over,” King Arvid said, “I have business I must attend to.”

               “I’d like to stay and watch,” Astrid said.

               “Very well, dear,” King Arvid said, patting the back of her hand. “Keep that sharp eye of yours on them.”

               King Arvid stood, waved down to Stoick, and departed through the wooden door behind the platform.

               “Can I go, too?” Tegard pleaded. “I’m bored.”

               “Fine, but I better not hear of you sneaking into the kitchen. I’ll let Hildegard whip you this time.”

               Tegard said nothing, but bolted through the same door as his father.

               Stoick took the center of the courtyard, sword in hand.

               “You must know your opponent’s movements,” Stoick said to the squires. “You must know your sword as well as your hand. It must become a part of you. An extension of yourself. You must know the fight well enough to know where your opponent will go, left, right, forward; you must predict this in the heat of battle, or perish. When I say ‘perish,’ I mean you will be left on the battlefield to bleed to death.”

               The squires paired up around the courtyard and practiced parrying and predicting for an hour, while Stoick walked the pairs and pointed out mistakes and problems. He said nothing as he walked by Hiccup and Fishlegs. The pairs switched.

               “I must be going,” Queen Lenora said. “This chair is about to kill me. I can’t feel anything below my hips or above my knees anymore.”

               Just like that, Astrid sat alone in the royal box. She could move over and sit in her father’s throne, but it felt punishable. She’d rather not have her father’s wrath. She’d seen it enough cast at Tegard to be wary.

               Astrid watched the squires’ practice until Stoick called it a day. He sent them to their quarters. She stood, and exited the box.

 

X

 

               Astrid ate dinner with her family, and returned to her room. She changed from her proper dress into something less tight and frilly; something she could move in without being poked, squeezed, or held in place. She sat at the window as the sun dipped below the western trees; a moving something caught her eye below her window.

               Someone moved toward the forest. They wore a cloak, but as they moved, they turned back toward the castle, and Astrid saw the plain white clothes of a squire. He walked to the trees and vanished into the darkness of the forest.

               “What are you up to?” Astrid asked. No one answered.

               Feeling curious, she grabbed her cloak from its hook and wrapped it around her shoulders. Using her usual route, she crept through the corridors and used a servant’s door through the kitchen to get outside unnoticed. It had taken years to perfect the route, and many pointed fingers, shaking heads, and angry parents.

               According to her mother, witches, thieves, and dragons loved to steal young princesses from unguarded woods. Especially at night.

               Astrid had spent many an hour in those woods and had never seen anything more than a Terrible Terror. The large dragons lived further into the woods, but she hadn’t ventured far enough to find them.

               Astrid walked across the dark grounds and to the forest. She glanced back to see if anyone had seen her, and realized the mysterious squire had done the same. She pressed on into the forest. Moonlight lit the way in pale black-blue. All manner of late summer night bugs sang, chirped, and whistled. She listened, but she heard no footsteps. The further in she went, the stranger the quiet sounds became.

               A gentle _thunking_ caught her ear. She approached with caution, in case a wild dragon had wondered closer, but the _thunking_ didn’t seem to heed her. She took each step carefully, over brambles, clumps of leaves, and exposed twigs. The _thunking_ grew ever louder.

               In a clearing, she spotted the cloaked figure. He no longer wore his cloak. He’d draped it on a tree trunk’s knot. Hiccup Haddock had taken a dull sword from the training room and thwacked it against a dead tree. He’d left dents and dings all up and down the rotten bark. He held an intense stare at the tree, as if imagining other things. His feet worked in a graceful unison on the ground, never fumbling or tripping. His thin arms smacked the tree with more force that she thought him capable.

               “Impressive,” Astrid said after a long while of watching him.

               Hiccup jumped, held the sword at the defensive, and as his eyes adjusted on her, his face widened into an expression of fear. He dropped the sword.

               “I-I sorry, your majesty,” he said, head bowed. “I-I was just practicing. I meant no harm.”

               “I can see that,” Astrid said. “That tree won’t be causing any more problems for this forest.”

               Hiccup glanced up. The moonlight paled his face and sparkled in his eyes. In the low light, his eyes looked black.

               “I saw you today,” Astrid said. She took several steps forward, and picked up the discarded sword. She held the metal in her hands. Strange weight. “You did well.”

               “Not as well as I should have,” Hiccup said.

               “Father says you have potential.”

               “He did?” Hiccup blinked. He swallowed. “I mean, thank you. Princess.”

               Astrid gripped the sword hilt. “My father allowed me to take fencing lessons when I was a girl. When it was clear that I was his successor, I had to stop.”

               “Why is that?” Hiccup asked.

               “Because a Queen doesn’t need to know how to sword fight,” Astrid said, just as her father had repeated many times.

               “That doesn’t make sense,” Hiccup said.

               Astrid glanced up from the sword to Hiccup.

               He swallowed. His entire throat bobbed. “A Queen should know how to defend herself instead of always relying on guards. Everyone should know how to defend themselves. To deny that to someone is to make them vulnerable.”

               “Do I look vulnerable to you, Squire Haddock?” Astrid asked. A redness warmed her cheeks.

               “No, no, I didn’t mean that,” Hiccup said. His shoulders shrank inward and he waved his hands in front of him. “I only meant that you should be able to learn how to defend yourself if you want to. A queen should be able to sword fight, too. It would intimidate your enemies.”

               “Would I intimidate you?” Astrid asked, flicking the dulled edge of the blade with her finger.

               “You don’t need to know how to wield a sword for that, Princess,” Hiccup said softly. “You’re doing great as you are.”

               Astrid grinned. “Thank you.”

               A silence fell through the woods.

               Hiccup rested a hand on the opposite elbow. “Are you going to punish me?”              

               “For what?”

               “Breaking curfew, sneaking from the castle, hiding pillows under my blanket so my dad wouldn’t know I left,” Hiccup said, counting the things off on his fingers.

               Astrid thought about it, but didn’t think long. No, she wouldn’t. “Tell you what, Squire Haddock, I won’t tell on you if you do something for me.”

               Hiccup hesitated, fear in his eyes, “Yes, Princess?”

               “Teach me what you know,” she said, motioning to the sword. “I want to learn how to fight, too.”

               “Yes, Princess,” Hiccup nodded. “Although I can’t say I’m as good of a teacher as my father.”

               “Meet me here tomorrow night for the first lesson,” Astrid said. She handed Hiccup his sword.

               He nodded. “Yes, Princess.”

               Astrid retreated through the forest. A tingle of giddiness bubbled in his stomach, and when Hiccup could no longer see her, she let it out in a smile that she hid with her hands. The rebelliousness enchanted her; she would be breaking all manner of rules. Leaving the castle unattended, leaving after dark, sneaking into the woods to see a young man, and learning to sword fight.

 


	3. Chapter3

 

Chapter **3**

 

               Astrid sat on a fallen log, waiting. She hadn’t anticipated what might happen if Hiccup Haddock did not honor their deal. She didn’t want to tell his father that he’d been in the woods. It would reveal her own presence in the woods. They would both be in trouble. Hiccup Haddock might have seen that flaw in her plan, and decided against training her. He might have his own devilish ideas.

               In any case, there were logical reasons for him to be late.

               Astrid listened for his footsteps in the woods. She heard many sounds, bugs and insects, and something larger she couldn’t identify. She had no plan of action in case she met a wild dragon. That was another thing squires learned that she would like to know. If Hiccup Haddock honored their deal, she would ask him.

               After a while of sitting in the dark, Astrid stood, ready to call Hiccup a no-show. She took a step toward the castle when she heard the footsteps, light but steady, heading closer to her. Between the trees, she spotted the gray of the squire.

               She breathed a sigh at the sight.

               “So, you didn’t back out,” Astrid said as Hiccup came into clearer view. He carried two practice swords on his back.

               “No,” he said, out of breath. “No, Princess. We ran late. Knight Haddock is adamant that we learn fast and don’t sleep until we know all the sword moves by heart.”

               “That won’t be hard for you, then,” Astrid said.

               “You’d be surprised,” Hiccup said. “Knight Haddock is good at finding your weak points.”

               Hiccup walked into the clearing and Astrid followed. Hiccup smelled of sweat and an earthy scent she couldn’t identify.

               “Why do you call him ‘Knight Haddock’ and not ‘Dad?’”

               Hiccup let out a chuckle. “He tells me to. He doesn’t want the others to think he’s treating me any different.”

               “Is he?”

               Hiccup hesitated. “Not in a good way.”

               “How so?”

               Hiccup glanced at her, considering whether or not to speak what he thought. Astrid knew the face. Anyone she spoke to outside of her immediate family and close friends wore it as they spoke.  

               “You may speak your mind, Hiccup,” Astrid said.

               Hiccup pulled the two swords from his back and unsheathed them. “He’s harder on me. I’m his son. He expects me to be this great knight, and I’m trying, but I’m never good enough for him.”

               “Perhaps he’s worried,” Astrid said, pacing the clearing.

               “Worried I’ll make him look bad?”

               “Worried that if you become a knight, you’ll be in danger.”

               Hiccup blinked at her, unsure. He handed her the sword, hilt first. She took it as she’d seen them do.

               “Don’t grip it too tight,” Hiccup said. “You want to remain fluid, but in control.”

               Hiccup stepped around and examined her grip. He reached for her hand, but hesitated with his fingers above hers. After a moment, he placed his hand on hers. He adjusted her fingers.

               “There,” Hiccup said, his voice a pitch higher. “As you practice, you’ll find the grip that works best for you. You’ll learn when to tighten your grip, when to loosen, and how to flex your fingers and wrist.”

               Astrid flexed her hand around the hilt; she’d never realized, or given as much consideration to, how many things worked together to hold a sword.

               Hiccup taught her the words, parry, thrust, step, and when to sidestep right or left, and basics of fencing. It had been a while, but the steps came back to her. Swishing the blade, anticipating when the opponent would strike upward or down. The clank of the metal thrilled her, the constant motion, the fluctuation of a fight, all of it heated her insides.

               Too soon, Hiccup called it a night.

               “That it, unless Princess would like to continue,” Hiccup said. Dark circles hung underneath his eyes. His shoulders drooped.

               “I agree,” Astrid said. “It’s late, and you’ve an early morning.”

               “I do,” he said.

               Astrid handed him the sword, and as he took it, his fingers grazed hers. He paused as if she might reprimand him. When she didn’t, he sheathed the swords and swung them around his shoulder. He began to walk through the woods, and Astrid followed a step behind.

               She wanted to ask him something, anything to hear him speak. She wanted him to stop and turn to her. She wanted to see his eyes looking at her. She wanted him to speak to her, to open up to her again. Her tired mind couldn’t formulate questions fast enough. She had one on the tip of her tongue, when Hiccup stopped short at the edge of the woods. He bent low to the ground.

               She saw what he saw; a guard patrolled the edge of the woods and walked toward them.

“Back this way,” Astrid said, pulling on the back of Hiccup’s shirt.

               Astrid tiptoed back into the woods with Hiccup a few steps behind. She led him to her familiar hiding spot, a large tree with roots poking through the ground. She navigated her way through and pressed her back against the large tree. Hiccup tried to follow her steps, but tripped. He caught himself before he slammed into her, a hand on either side of her head. Astrid moved to catch him, and her hands met his chest.

               The guard’s slow, cautious footsteps came closer, one step at a time.

               She felt his pounding heart beneath his shirt. His breath met her lips, hot and quick. Neither moved; he stared down at her as though she might plunge a dagger into his heart, or worse, throw him into the lightless dungeon for a crime he didn’t do. Astrid moved her thumb across the fabric of his shirt to reassure him she wouldn’t, but it didn’t seem to help.

               She’d never been this close to anyone. She’d never felt another’s heart beat so rapidly; her own thundered away.

               The guard’s footsteps came ever closer, and hesitated. Astrid’s heart skipped a beat. If they were caught like this, no excuse would suffice. Hiccup knew it, too, and the fear showed on his moonlit face. He shook.

               She wanted to tell him not to worry. She would defend him.

               The guard walked on. The footsteps gradually faded in the other direction.

               Neither moved until the footsteps went away.

               “Damn,” Astrid breathed. “That was close.”

               Hiccup stood up, shakily. He ran a hand through his hair.

               “It’s alright, no one saw,” Astrid told him.

               “They could have,” Hiccup said, voice small. “I could have gotten killed on the spot.”

               “I wouldn’t have let them,” she said.

               Hiccup shook his head. “No, this…this isn’t alright. I’m sorry, Princess. I can’t risk this. My father would kill me if the guards didn’t.”

               Hiccup dashed through the woods. Astrid pushed herself off the tree to run after him, but a glint in the foliage caught her eye. The swords. She picked them up and went after Hiccup. She reached the edge of the woods, but Hiccup had already vanished. She sighed, and looked down at the practice swords. They would be missed in the morning.

               She looked for guards, and then ran back to the servant’s door. She knew what she had to do. Those swords couldn’t be missed.

 

X

 

               “Rise and shine,” came the light voice of Helga. She pushed the bed curtains aside and let in the warm sunlight.

               The brightness stung Astrid’s eyes. She rolled over to escape the light, and pushed her head into the pillow.

               “Oh, no, no,” Helga said. “It’s time to get up, Princess.”

               “Ten more minutes,” Astrid said into the pillow.

               “Breakfast is in an hour,” Helga reminded. She whisked aside the bed curtains on the other side, allowing no room for shadows.

               Astrid got up, bathed, and dressed, and met her parents in the dining hall for breakfast.

               “My dear, you look exhausted,” King Arvid said to Astrid as she sat. “Trouble sleeping? Or were you up half the night?”

               Astrid froze at the suggestion. “I couldn’t sleep.”

               “I’ll have the herbalist make you something tonight to help,” Queen Lenora said.

               Astrid pushed her food around the plate. She didn’t feel remotely hungry. She’d spent two hours sneaking the swords back into the practice room. She hadn’t thought of how many knights would be in the training hall, or how many would be awake. She’d spent forty minutes waiting for one of the knights to finish reading. She’d nearly fallen asleep herself, hiding just inside the servant’s passage. When she’d finally gotten back to her room, sleep felt as far away as it could have.

               “Warm tea, dear?” Queen Lenora asked.

               “Yes, please,” Astrid said. Within a few minutes, a warm mug rested in Astrid’s hands. She sipped slowly.

               After breakfast and studies in the parlor, Astrid retired to watch the squires train. They worked on swordplay. She sat in the royal box on the courtyard, and searched the squires for Hiccup. She spotted him; he stood with his back to her. He fought with a large boy with dark hair. One by one, the other fights ended, but Hiccup still parried the dark headed boy. Stoick said nothing about his son’s skill. He walked by, scowling, and commented on the others’ imperfections and mistakes.

               Not very fatherly, Astrid thought.

               The teams switched; Hiccup saw her. He blinked, and then focused on his opponent. More than a few times his green eyes flickered up to the box.

               “That’s enough,” Stoick roared. “We break for lunch. Be back here in an hour.”

               The squires returned the practice swords to the racks and vanished in several directions. Hiccup lingered by the rack, and glanced back up at the box. Snotlout walked behind him, and lurched his thick body into Hiccup’s. He spoke, but Astrid didn’t hear the words. By Hiccup’s sour expression, they hadn’t been nice.

               Hiccup headed into the squire’s dining hall where the castle prepared them three meals. Astrid walked down to the courtyard, and stood just inside the arched doorway onto the green. When Hiccup exited the dining hall a short while later, Astrid caught his eye. He looked startled. She motioned, and then walked into the shadowed stairwell that led into the box.

               Hiccup followed her through the archway with caution.

               “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

               “Princess,” he said, bowing his head. “There is no need to apologize.”

               “Of course there is,” she said. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of my selfishness.”

               He blinked. “Did you…did you bring the swords back?”

               “I did,” she said.

               He breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought my father knew they’d been taken and replaced them. He kept glaring at me all morning. I assumed he knew.”

               “How could he know?” Astrid asked. “No one saw.”

               “I don’t know. He has ways.”

               “If I had a different location, would you still be willing to train me?” Astrid asked, hopeful but stern.

               Hiccup considered. “Yes, Princess.”

               She grinned, and clasped her hands together. “In the paneled room beside the squire’s hall, between the candelabra and the painting of Margo the Wise, there is a panel that opens. Press on the right side. Meet me inside tonight.”

               “What?” Hiccup asked.

               Astrid repeated her instructions, and included a small line about the servant’s passage that runs through the entire castle. Hiccup took the information, and repeated it back to her.

               “Yes, that’s right,” Astrid said, nodding. “I’ll be waiting, Squire Haddock.”

               He gave her a quick grin, and then Knight Haddock signaled the beginning of the next session, and he rushed back through the doorway.

 

X

 

               That evening, Astrid made her way through the servants’ passage with a single candle to guide her. Despite the efforts to keep the castle spotless, the servants passage did not receive the same attention. Cobwebs and dust became commonplace.

She waited on the other side of the door to the squire’s hall, and resisted the urge to open it. At last, she heard a hand feel the panel. It slid across the wood and pushed against the right side. The panel sprung open, and on the other side stood a bewildered Hiccup Haddock.

               “Amazing,” he whispered.

               He stepped through the door and Astrid showed him how to push it shut. It clicked back into place, resetting the mechanism.

               “How many of these are there?”

               “In the entire castle? I don’t know, I’ve never counted. Dozens, at least,” she said.

               Footsteps sounded on the other side and they both froze. Patrol.

               Astrid motioned Hiccup after her, and led him through the servants’ passage, to an empty corridor on the fourth floor. The door came out through a painting of Cedric the Dumbfounded. She stepped through, and held the painting open for Hiccup. She chose an empty parlor at the end of the hall. The furniture had been removed years before and a tall window let in plenty of moonlight. Astrid set the candle down away from the window.

               “We can speak in here,” Astrid said. “No one sleeps anywhere near this room, and there’s nothing to clean, so the servants won’t come. We have the space to ourselves.”

               “Wow,” Hiccup said. “You really know your way around.”

               “I’ve spent a lot of time sneaking,” she said. “But let’s keep that between us.”

               “As you wish, Princess.”

               They sparred with the practice swords; Hiccup gave advice and pointers, more direct and personalized than his father’s. Before the night ended, they were clanking metal left and right, quickly and without hesitation. Hiccup won several rounds, but Astrid didn’t lose them all.

               “You’ve gotten farther in two nights than most of the squires have in their entire training,” Hiccup said, out of breath. “You’re good at this.”

               “Not as good as you, Squire Haddock,” she said, handing him back the sword.

               He grinned, and shifted his gaze to the floor. “You can call me Hiccup, if you’d like, Princess.”

               “And, if you would like, can call me Astrid,” she said.

               He blushed. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.”

               “Why not?”

               He stammered. “You’re the princess. You’ll be my queen. I’m not…”

               “Not what?”

               “Worthy, I guess.”

               “Not worthy to speak my name?”

               He shrugged, eyes on the floor. “No, Princess.”

               “That’s rubbish, Hiccup.” Astrid stepped to him, ignoring whatever invisible wall he believed existed, and placed her hand on his chest, over his heart, as she’d done the night before.

               Hiccup inhaled and took a small step back. Astrid stepped with him. She held her hand firmly over his heart.

               “There is nothing standing between us, Hiccup,” she whispered. “I can touch you without harm or worry.”

               Hiccup laid a hand against her waist. He swallowed, and his entire throat moved.

               “See?” Astrid said. “I don’t bite. Unless you bite first.”

               Hiccup didn’t move.

               “I will see you tomorrow?” Astrid asked.

               “Of course, Princess,” Hiccup said, then added, “Astrid.”

               “I will wait for you behind the wall,” she said, and removed her hand. She walked back into the empty corridor and to the painting. She pressed her hand on the right side and sprung the mechanism with a series of small clicks, and it swung open.

               Hiccup followed a few steps behind. “Uh, Princess?”

               She turned, and raised a brow.

               “I mean, Astrid?”

               “Yes, Hiccup?”

               “Could you…show me how to get back to the hall?”

               She grinned. “Lost?”

               “A bit,” he said, nodding. “We took several turns, and stairs, and to be honest, I’d never find my way back in this maze.”

               “Gladly,” she said, grinning. She held the painting open for him, and led the way back down through the castle, with nothing more than the candle to guide them, and to the squire hall.

               “Thank you,” Hiccup whispered.

               “Before you go,” Astrid said, stepping up beside him. “Do you have something for me?”

               Hiccup blinked. “Uh…?”

               “Nothing for a lady after an evening spent together?”

               He blinked again.

               Astrid turned her head to the side, and tapped her finger on her cheek.

               “Oh,” Hiccup said.

               She didn’t move. After a moment, she heard him move, and then felt the soft peck of lips against her cheek.

               “That’s better,” Astrid said.

               Hiccup’s face had gone a bright shade of red.

               “A kiss goodnight,” Astrid told him. “It’s proper etiquette.”

               “Yes, Princess,” Hiccup said. “Milady Astrid.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

               Astrid retired to the library lounge after lunch. She took her tea and relaxed into one of the large, squishy chairs made for long hours of reading. She’d chosen her book: an old tome of dragons. She rested the leather book against her legs and opened it.

The first dragon it pictured was a Monstrous Nightmare, the drawing of which looked angry and mean. Horns curved around its head. Its long snout was made for biting. Its skin produced a flammable gel that the dragon used to set itself on fire.

               “There you are.”

               Astrid jumped.

               Lady Heather stood in the doorway. “I haven’t seen much of you since the squires moved in.”

               “I’ve been busy,” Astrid said. She waved Heather inside. “What’s on your mind?’

               “Nothing much,” Heather said, swinging her arms as she walked into the lounge. She sat across from Astrid in a mirrored chair. She glanced down and tilted her head sideways at the book. “Dragons?”

               Astrid smiled. “The squires are learning about them this week.”

               “Ah, yes, the squires,” Heather said.

               Astrid paused. Heather’s knowing glance caused a small panic. She said, “Yes. The squires.”

               Heather grinned. “I know what’s going on.”

               “You do?” Astrid asked.

               “Of course,” Heather said. “It’s not hard to guess. You’re easy to read sometimes.”

               “What, then, is going on?”

               “You fancy one of them,” Heather said. “One of the squires.”

               Astrid held her breath. “Oh.”

               Heather’s grin faltered. “You were thinking of something else?”

               “I didn’t know what you thought,” Astrid said.

               “It’s true?”

               “I didn’t say that.”

               Heather giggled. “It _is_ true.”

               Astrid clutched onto the book. She swallowed. Was it true?

               “Which one is it?” Heather asked, wide-eyed and waiting. “Is it the tall one with the dark hair? Broad shoulders? Little cleft on his chin? Or is it the big blonde one? Or the sandy haired one with the chipped tooth? I thought his smile a bit disarming at first, but I’ve grown to like it.”

               “I’m not telling,” Astrid said.

               Heather grinned. “It’s a secret, is it? Does he know?”

               “I would like to think not,” Astrid said.

               “I’ll get it out of you,” Heather said. “I’ve seen the way you watch the practices.”

               Astrid laughed. “And what way is that?”

               “Like you’re watching the man of your dreams,” Heather said in a mocking, love-struck voice.

               Maybe she was.

               “But I understand you not wanting to make a scene,” Heather said. “Knowing one of their own is fancied by the princess would make the other squires jealous.”

               “How would that make a difference?” Astrid asked.

               Heather’s grin flattened into a line. “You’re the _princess_. It’s every squire’s dream to grow up to be a knight and save the beautiful princess from the tower guarded by the vicious dragon. They want you to be that princess.”

               Astrid glanced down at the drawing of the Monstrous Nightmare. She scoffed. “I’d rather fight the dragon myself.”

               Heather smiled, even if that smile had a tint of pity in it. “I know you would. But the boys think they’re fighting for your hand. It gives them extra incentive.”

               “No is fight for my hand,” Astrid said. “Nor is it a prize to be given or won. I will give it to whomever I choose.”

               Heather grinned, and laughed. “Of course, not, Your Grace.”

               “Oh, Heather, don’t start that again,” Astrid asked. She didn’t like to be called such formal things by those she considered friends. “Unless you want me to stay calling ‘Milady.’”

              

X

 

               That evening, Astrid waited for Helga to leave and snuck out to the servant’s passage nearest her bedroom. With a single candle for guidance, she walked to the squire’s quarters, and waited.

               Not watching the squires practice that day had felt oddly alarming. She’d gotten used to it.

               Footsteps sounded outside the hidden door. They were too heavy to be Hiccup’s. They hesitated outside the door, then continued. Not long after, a softer set came to the door, and felt along the door for the mechanism. The door opened, and Hiccup stepped inside. He pulled the door closed. The heavier footsteps sounded again.

               Without speaking, Astrid led the way up to the empty corridor and into the empty room. Hiccup yawned as he handed one of the practice swords to Astrid.

               “Long day?” she asked.

               “Yes and no,” he said. “I’m used to getting up and moving around, not sitting in a chair for hours at a time.”

               “What did you learn about?”

               “Knighthood things, mostly, the chivalrous kind. Laws, too.”

               “Did you learn about dragons?”

               Hiccup missed a step, and Astrid poked him in the chest with the point of her sword.

               “Got you,” she said. “Through the heart.”

               “Indeed,” he said. He chuckled, stepped back, and place a hand over where she’d poked him.

               “Will you not tell me about the dragon lecture?” Astrid asked.

               “Knight Haddock swore us to secrecy,” he said, taking his stance.

               Astrid came at him; he parried. After their swords clanged, she asked, “Did he really?”

               “He might as well have,” Hiccup said, defending. “They don’t want just anyone to go out looking for dragons. A lot people would get themselves killed that way.”

               “Does that mean the knights will go hunting for dragons?” Astrid asked, the thrill of a dragon hunt tingling through her fingers.

               Hiccup didn’t answer immediately. Astrid took his slight unease, and knocked his sword and swished her to his neck, and gently poked him with the dull point.

               “Got you,” she said, smiling. “Twice now. You’ve yet to land a single killing blow to me.”

               “Perhaps,” Hiccup said, eyes on the window, “I do not wish to land a killing blow to you.”

               She smiled. “Squire Haddock, are you being soft with me?”

               He chuckled, a nervous glow to his cheeks. “I won’t say either way.”

               She swished her sword harder than she hard before, and he jumped back, forced to defend or pretend-die. She struck at him again, and this time he struck in response. The swords clanked against each other with the ferocity of a real battle, and they danced around the empty room defending as they went, neither landing a blow on the other. Finally, Hiccup’s sword swatted Astrid’s thigh.

               “Ouch!” Astrid jumped to the side.

               Hiccup dropped his sword. “Gods, I-I’m sorry! Are you alright, Princess?”

               Astrid sat down, hand on her leg. No one had ever hit her before. Her thigh stung like her skin had been ripped open. She wrenched her dress up before the blood could seep through. Midway on her thigh, a line reddened. A line of blood appeared where the skin had broken.

               Hiccup collapsed to the floor in front of her, hands on his face, eyes on her wounded thigh. He tried to articulate something several times, and finally stropped trying. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair.

               “It’s alright,” she said softly. “I would have hit you as hard if I could have.”

               “No, it’s not alright,” he said, voice strained. He reached out to her, but then pulled his hands back to himself. “I-I got carried away.”

               “As did I, Hiccup,” she said.

His worried gaze met hers. “You’re bleeding. Here.”

Hiccup reached into his pocket and withdrew a simple, off-white handkerchief. He stretched the cloth, end in each hand, and folded it up like a bandage. He scooted toward her, but hesitated.

Astrid moved her leg and stretched it toward him. She pushed the fabric between her legs to not give his eye anything to wander to. He bent forward, and wrapped the handkerchief around her wound. He tied it; his hands lingered. His fingertips grazed her skin. Her heart hammered; no hand had touched her with the such sincere caution as Hiccup Haddock. His hand rested gingerly against her inner thigh, closer to her than any man had ever gotten, and he hesitated, fear in his eyes.

A part of her, the wild child that ran into the woods hunting dragons, wanted to know him far better than she knew any man; she wanted those fingers to climb higher. The trained and proper princess in her knew the horrible idea that she imagined. Yet, neither of them moved. Hiccup’s green stare locked into hers, and she couldn’t look away.

Maybe Heather had been right after all.

A hot blush warmed his entire face. His hands still rested on her thigh, and shook.

“You’re getting better,” he said. He stumbled over his words. “Uh, I mean, with the sword. You’re getting better.”

She grinned. “You’re a fine teacher.”

Hiccup stood, and held both hands down to her. She grasped onto his hands, and let him help her to her feet. Her leg didn’t hurt much, but it tingled. She stood closer to him than she had before, close enough to feel his breath. She held onto his hands.

Hiccup cleared his throat, and stepped away. He retrieved the swords from the floor. “So, I suppose that will be it for tonight.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “I suppose it’s for the best. Mother does fret about unexplained wounds.”

Hiccup raised a brow at her, and she laughed.

“Then tomorrow will you tell me about dragons?” Astrid asked, reaching for his arm.

His eyes watched her fingers curl around his thin arm. “Uh, maybe, I don’t know, it’s not supposed to be common knowledge. Knight Haddock was adamant we keep it to ourselves.”

“What’s another secret?” Astrid said.

He shrugged, and smiled. “I suppose your right. But tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she said.

Astrid walked with Hiccup back to the squire hall, even though he offered several times to escort her back to her room. She insisted; she knew the way, he didn’t, and she didn’t want him getting lost. At the hidden door, he kissed her cheek, and vanished back into the squire hall.

Astrid meandered back to her room, sleep on her eyelids, Hiccup and dragons on her thoughts.

 

X

 

               Astrid managed to hide her wound from Helga that next morning. She stepped into the bathwater before Helga could see her, and hid Hiccup’s handkerchief in a vanity drawer were Helga had no business being. She rewrapped her thigh with the bandages from her bathroom, and though she wanted to retie Hiccup’s handkerchief, it wasn’t as comfortable on the skin as the bandages.  

               She washed it in the sink when Helga had gone, and worked to get the blood from the material. Most of it came out, but a thin stain stayed behind.

               Astrid attended her own studies that morning, monitored by her mother. While Hiccup learned of dragons and knighthood laws, she learned of past monarchs and their defeats and triumphs, such as her Great Grandfather’s royal waterway, which in theory would allow boats to pass through the city underneath bridges and to the sea. He went ahead with the project without the approval of the council or the consultation of construction experts, and the project fell though. The waterway became a ditch in which water gathered and wayward people drowned. It had been since filled in and built over.

               Because of the Royal Waterway, the law was passed that in order for such a project to be done, the council must first approve and consult experts.

               Tegan slouched in his chair. “But what is point in being king if you have to ask people if you can do something?”

               “That’s not the point of being king,” Astrid said. “That would be the point in being a  tyrant.”

               “Well said, Astrid,” said her mother. She looked to Tegan. “A king must make decisions that affect people, and those people should be given the chance to speak on that affect. And before a king, or anyone, starts tearing up city streets to build a river, he should be aware of how buildings and streets and waterways function. That’s why he should have consulted the proper people.”

               “But he’s the _king_ ,” Tegan said, clearly not understand. “He is the only proper person.”

               Astrid rubbed her temple. Had she ever been that thick? She used to wish that Tegan had been born first, to take the burden of ruling off her shoulders, but she wouldn’t trust Tegan with a cat, let along an entire kingdom. They’d be at war and concerned citizens would march into the keep and kill him. They might hate her by extension.

               “He is the leader,” Astrid said to Tegan. “That means he is in charge, but a good leader takes into account who his decisions will affect, not only himself.”

               “Also well said, Astrid.” Queen Lenore smiled at her daughter. “At least you seem to understand the basics of governing.”

               Tegan pouted.

               Astrid spent the afternoon in the library reading about dragons. Their library had an extensive collection of dragon tomes, both fiction and non, and she had read them all eagerly.

               What would it be like to meet a dragon? Were they as mighty and ferocious as the books depicted them?

              

X

 

               That evening Astrid went earlier to the squire’s hall. She waited for what felt like an hour behind the painting, until at last soft footsteps approached. Hiccup appeared through the passage door with two practice swords in hand.

               “I think my dad is getting suspicious,” he whispered.

               They began to walk.

               “Why? You have your evenings free, correct?”

               “Yes, but he meanders through the quarters and talks to the other squires,” Hiccup said, dodging a cobweb. “He mentioned this morning how he never saw me in the evenings. He might have been joking, but he mentioned how I should try to make friends.”

               “Have you made any friends with the other squires?”

               “Fishlegs and I already knew each other,” Hiccup said. At Astrid’s confusion, he explained, “He’s the bigger squire, blonde, no beard.”

               “Yes, I remember him now.”

               “I knew the twins, too,” he said with a pitied laugh. “I’m not sure if that makes us friends, though.”

               “How is the girl doing?”

               “Ruffnut?”

               Astrid nodded. “We need more women in the ranks.”

               Hiccup laughed. “I’m not sure if Ruffnut is the kind of woman you’re thinking off. She’s the semi-insane type. I will admit that she doesn’t let the boys push her around. Snotlout is terrified of her.”

               Ruffnut sounded like just the woman they needed in the ranks.

               They arrived at the deserted corridor and walked into the familiar room. Astrid set the candle on the floor and Hiccup handed her the sword.

               “What did you learn about today?” she asked casually as they danced about the floor, neither hitting very hard.

               “Laws, mostly,” he said. “I knew there were a lot of them, but I never realized just how many.”

               “It requires intelligence to be a knight,” Astrid said, indenting to imply that Hiccup had the requirement, but his face fell a bit. To change to subject, she asked, “Anything about dragons?”

               “Dad is saving that lecture,” Hiccup said. “He told me that he’s waiting to see how many drop out before he gives us the details.”

               They swished and stepped, around and around the floor. Sweat shimmered on his forehead, and she felt it on hers.

               “Have you ever seen a dragon?” Astrid asked.

               “A few times,” Hiccup said. “I went with Dad into the woods, before Dad was the Knight Commander.”

               Envy curled into her fingers. She swished a little harder. She asked, “Have you ever seen a Night Fury?”

               Hiccup fumbled; Astrid easily knocked his sword from his hand and swished the blade toward his neck. She slowed her sped before she touched him, and gently laid the dull practice sword against his throat.

               “I-I can’t say that I have,” he said, eyes elsewhere.

               Astrid reached for his blade and handed it back to him. She said, “I’ve been reading about dragons. I hear the Night Fury is cursed, and that they can’t fly in the daytime, which is why we never see them.”

               Hiccup looked down at his blade, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I’m not sure if that’s a true story or not. I mean, if no one has seen one and lived to tell the tale, how do we know that they’re cursed?”

               Astrid shrugged. “I don’t know, but I want to be the one to find out.”

               Hiccup chuckled. “Knights don’t dragon hunt like they used to. Dad said too many people died that way. He seemed a bit mad about that part.”

               “I wish I could go dragon hunting,” Astrid said. She looked to the floor and imagined a royal pelt adorning the stone floors. “Queen Astrid, the Dragon Slayer.”

               Hiccup bit into his lip. “I-I don’t know…the dragons that we saw didn’t seem to be the vicious, man-eating kind. They seemed more afraid of us than we were of them.”

               Astrid’s spinning ended and she turned to Hiccup, who jumped. She said, “What did they looked like? What kind of dragons?”

               He hesitated, swallowed, and said, “We saw this dark yellow Monstrous Nightmare. It had this reddish tint to some of its scales.”

               “That sounds amazing.”

               “It was a beautiful sight,” Hiccup said. “The dragons we saw were beautiful creatures. Intelligent. Remarkable. I-I don’t see why people want to hunt them so much. There’s already not as many as there used to be.”

               “In one of the older books, it says that dragons used to outnumber people,” Astrid said, thrilled at the idea of so many dragons.

               “They did,” Hiccup said, nodding. “But people kept hunting them, and they started to hide from people in mountains and forests. Instead of fighting back, they hid. They’re not mean creatures like people think. They don’t horde treasure or guard towers. They’re just animals.”

               Astrid had something else on the tip of her tongue, but Hiccup’s bright sincerity shoved it aside.

               They fought for a while longer, with less gusto than before, and less talk of dragons. They called it a night, and Astrid escorted Hiccup back to the squire hall. They waited for a pair of footsteps to leave, and then Hiccup snuck out of the painting. The painting closed, he took a few steps, and then Snotlout’s voice filled the corridor.

               Astrid’s heart flipped over.

               “Look who decided to show up,” Snotlout jeered. “Your father is looking for you, Hiccup.”

               “Uh, thanks,” Hiccup said, dislike heavily implied.

               “Where have you been?”

               “Why, did you miss me?”

               Snotlout scoffed. “As if. I needed something to test out my new upper cut technique on, and I couldn’t find you.”

               “Snotlout, Hiccup,” came Stoick the Vast’s deep boom. His heavy footsteps followed.

               “You’re looking for me?” Hiccup asked.

               Stoick and Hiccup vanished down one corridor while Snotlout lingered, and then retreated down another, muttering something about ‘being a favorite.’

               Astrid had disliked Snotlout from the first time she saw him, but her dislike skyrocketed. If he tried to get Hiccup into trouble, she would make sure that he paid for it.

              

                

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Chapter **5**

 

               Over her afternoon tea, Astrid realized that if she were to enact revenge on Snotlout for harming Hiccup, she would expose their midnight trysts. Then she and Hiccup would both be in trouble of a different sort. Her father would be furious, of course, and her mother would surely disapprove, but she didn’t know what would happen to Hiccup. He would be stripped of his squire-hood, and he’d never be able to become a knight.

               The thought of him losing that chance, and because of her, it filled her with dread and guilt.

               “Astrid?” her mother’s voice rang out.

               “Yes?” Astrid snapped her attention from the tea in her hand to her mother. She sat across the table; her kind eyes were focused on Astrid.

               “You seem distracted.”

               “Do I?” Astrid sipped her tea. It had grown cold during her thoughts.

               “Your mind kept wandering during your lessons, too,” her mother said. She set her own cup down on the saucer. “Is something bothering you?”

               “No,” Astrid said at once. “I’m fine. Just…tired, I suppose I didn’t sleep very well last night. Strange dreams.”

               Her mother nodded and her kind smile stretched her painted lips. She said, “Yes, of course, nothing you can tell me about. But, you know that I was once a young girl, too. I had troubles I didn’t want to speak to my mother about, but, looking back now as a mother, I’m sure she would have understood. She might have provided some much needed insight as well.”

               Astrid ran her thumb along the leafy china.

               “Astrid, dear, is it one of the squires?”

               Astrid nearly dropped the cup. “What? No, why would you think that?”

               Her mother laughed. “You’re as love stuck as a girl could be.”

               She felt her face burn with those words. She didn’t love him, did she?

               “You’ve been to every practice since the young men arrived,” her mother said, lips against her teacup. “You’re distracted. You’re not thinking as clearly about your lessons. You sigh ever so often. You’ve got all the symptoms. Tell me, which one is it?”

               Astrid cleared her throat and poured the warm tea from the pot into her cooling tea. She wasn’t thinking clearly? Nonsense. She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

               “Of course, not,” her mother said with a smile. She sipped her tea loudly. “This means, however, that I’ll have to guess.”

               Astrid pretended that her cheeks did not burn.

               “Thinking of you, now, he’d have to be strong. And skilled. Oh, he’d have to be skilled in order to catch your eye. And honorable. You have a strong sense of duty, thank the gods, and he’d have to have the same. And handsome, but not so handsome that he is in love with himself. He’d need to be a worthy catch for you, but who?” Her mother hummed.

               She must have already figured it out. Hiccup came from an honorable, well-loved family. His father had served the royal family for decades. Hiccup was all of the things she’d mentioned: strong, skilled, honorable, handsome. He was, by far, a worthy catch. Wasn’t he? Hiccup could parry and calculate, but did that make him king material?

               Her mother made no guesses. Instead, she laughed and leaned back in her chair without slumping. “I suppose I’ll let you keep your secrets until you’re ready to tell me.”

               “Thank you,” Astrid said.

               “But, I do warn you, dear, that the man you pull close to you will become your king,” said her mother in a low tone of warning. “There will be no chance to throw him back out to sea and find another. If you pull a squire from training, he will never be able to rejoin the order. Keep that in mind. You’ll be struck with him for the rest of your life, and if you decided after ten years to poison his wine, the people will suspect it.”

               Her great, great grandmother, Queen Gertrude, was suspected of pouring rat poison into her husband’s cup. When they’d married, he’d been a spry young winemaker, but the years as king spoiled him. He’d grown bald, loud, and so fat he couldn’t leave his bedchamber. When he’d died, they had to take him out in pieces.

               “I won’t make rash decisions,” Astrid said. “I promise.”

               “That’s a good girl,” her mother said. “And a wise ruler.”

 

X

 

               That evening, the squires practiced in the courtyard to demonstrate how far they’d come since their first day. Many spectators filled the courtyard’s stands, including the royal family. Because of her mother’s words that afternoon, Astrid tried hard not to follow Hiccup’s movements around the yard. She didn’t want to give him away.

               Hiccup fought valiantly; he’d gotten better with his footwork and quickness. The others had improved as well, which her father greatly applauded.

               “Knight Commander Haddock knows how to teach them,” King Arvid said proudly, loud enough for his dukes and magistrates to hear.

               Astrid did not look at her father or mother to see if either gauged her reaction. She would give them nothing to suspect Hiccup.

               The squires competed against each other, sword against sword, until one by one they lost. Tegard sat on the edge of his seat, applauding each victory, and would have sat closer if their parents had allowed it. He hollered once on the first match, but her father pulled him back into his royal positon.

“Don’t shout, Tegard,” her father had said. “You, as Prince, do not cheer on winners or losers. Each squire may become a knight that fights to protect you.”

Astrid held her hands flat against each other to keep from cringing each time Hiccup fought. She needn’t have worried. Hiccup won each battle.

               The final round came down between Hiccup and Snotlout.

               “Cousin against cousin,” Queen Lenora said. “Couldn’t have planned that better.”

               “I agree,” King Arvid said.

               “Snotlout’s been playing dirty,” Astrid said. “He tripped Fishlegs.”

               “That he has,” her father agreed. “But, while I don’t readily approve the tactics, he has been winning. In a real fight, winning means surviving.”

               Astrid didn’t agree. A real knight didn’t need to use dirty tactics in order to win. Hiccup hadn’t. He’d won each match with skill and talent.

               The fight started. Snotlout came after Hiccup with tight offence, and Hiccup could only defend. They danced about the ring, back and forth, with Snotlout slashing and striking, and Hiccup countering.

               “He’ll tire himself out with that sort of strategy,” Astrid mumbled.

               “True,” her father said, “but he also might tire out his opponent.”

               “If they’re both tired out then it accomplishes nothing.”

               “He’s betting on his stamina being greater.”

               Astrid held her tongue; she knew Hiccup’s stamina to be great. She tired out before he did, but she’d gotten better.

               Snotlout went low; Astrid saw his hand grab the dirt, and a few others did as well. He swung his arm and he tossed the handful of dirt forward, and while Astrid was among those that gasped at the act of cowardice, Hiccup turned his back to Snotlout, and as the dirt hit, he swung his sword around his other side, and the edge of his practice sword met Snotlout’s thick neck.

               Neither moved as the dirt settled.

               Astrid clapped her hands over her mouth to hide her smile. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered. The courtyard crowd erupted into ferocious applause.

               Knight Commander Stoick stood on the side, his mouth gapping open. He shook his head, but didn’t clap.

               Hiccup removed his sword, and offered Snotlout his hand. Snotlout spat onto the ground, and knocked his hand away. He stood, not at all happy about the end result. He muttered something, glaring at Hiccup, who didn’t look at all kind at whatever he’d spoken.

               Knight Commander Stoick silenced the courtyard. He addressed King Arvid as he spoke, “Your squires are improving each day, my king.”

               “I see,” King Arvid said. “They’ve fought well, King Commander. Every one of them. You should be proud. I see many with a knight’s potential.”

               Astrid caught Hiccup’s stare. His gaze lingered for a moment, then he looked to the ground.

               The horn sounded, and the squires retreated into their dormitory. Knights appeared to control the crowd as they left the castle.

               “Quite the show,” Queen Lenora said to Astrid as they climbed from their tower.

               “Yes,” Astrid said.

               Queen Lenora smiled, but said no more.

               “You three go on without me,” King Arvid said, stopping by the door to the courtyard. “I will speak with Knight Commander.”

              

X

 

               “Bah, these servants know how to fold clothes!” Helga spat as she pulled Astrid’s pajamas from the drawer. “Disgraceful.”

Helga left the drawer open, set the clothes on the vanity chair, and returned to the drawer. She yanked out a plain day dress, the one Astrid had worn the night before to meet Hiccup, and Astrid’s entire chest froze. Helga shook out the dress, refolded it with precise hands, and tucked it back into the drawer.

“There,” Helga said, admiring her work. “Not too shabby for being off laundry duty for twenty years. I’ll have to speak with the servants about their folding. It’s lacking. We’ve no room for imperfection in these halls.”

“Of course,” Astrid said. “But don’t be too hard on them. I think it’s Betta’s girl that’s been bringing the clothes.”

“Betta’s girl…my, she’s neigh of nine years old. Too young to work, but too old not to work.”

“I doubt she’s doing anything with malicious intent,” Astrid said, hoping to spare the servant’s lecture, even by a little. She’d rather not have the guilt of that.

“True enough, my princess,” Helga said. She set her hands on her hips and straightened. “And, who knows, maybe you are sleep walking.”

Astrid laughed, but it felt hollow. “I have been more tired of late.”

Helga nudged the drawer back into place and pointed with a chubby finger to the pajamas. “Nonsense, the staff would have seen you. Now, it’s getting late. Change before you fall asleep.”

With Helga’s help, Astrid changed from her dress and into her pajamas. She braided her hair over her shoulder and snuggled into the plush bed. Helga blew out the lamps, one by one, until only the candle by the bedside glowed. Helga bid her goodnight, as she had each night for as long as Astrid could remember, and took the candle with her into the corridor.

Astrid waited for the darkness to ease and her eyes to focus; was the staff growing suspicious? The wrongly folded clothes in her drawer; Hiccup’s mysterious absence in the evenings; little things may have added up. It wouldn’t take too clever a mind to put the pieces together.

When her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she wiggled out from the bed. She didn’t dress in day clothes. Instead, she pulled her thin robe over her pajamas. She retrieved a candle from her room, and without lighting it, checked the corridor, and snuck into the servant’s passage a hall away, one that they didn’t use as often.

She lit the candle, and started for the squire’s dorm. She tiptoed through the passages, listening for wayward or wandering servants. Few people knew about the servant’s passage, not even all of the servants knew about it. She had slim odds of meeting someone at the late hour, but her nerves still worried.  

She found the back of the painting, and waited. And waited. She had no chair to sit in, so she knelt to the floor, and waited.

She had no way of telling time; she knew that the candle should have told her exactly how much time had passed, but she didn’t know how to calculate the wax into minutes. That would be a task for another day, the next, perhaps.

With ever flicker of the wick’s flame, her worry grew. Had something happened to him? Had he been found trying to sneak blades from the practice room? What would the Knight Commander do to him? Something had to have happened, the longer she sat the more sure she became. He would not have simply abandon her; he was too honorable for that. Snotlout would have had a hand in whatever happened, the scoundrel.

A guard made his sounds outside the passage. His armor clanked and rattled; his footfalls fell with the weight. The guard made a second round while she waited, then a third, and as the heavy footfalls passed on that third round, quick, nimble steps came to the painting. A soft hand unlocked the mechanism.

Astrid stepped out of the way as Hiccup stepped through. He shut the painting quickly, but without a sound. Astrid opened her mouth, but Hiccup held up a hand. His eyes bore through the painting.

He shushed her. He _shushed_ her.

The guard’s footsteps returned.

“Who’s there?” the guard asked. No one answered.

Astrid knew that if the guard opened the passage, she wouldn’t let him harm Hiccup. Despite that, Hiccup looked like he might get sick. Astrid reached for his arm; he jumped. His eyes jerked to her, worried, intense, and sharp. For a moment, her breath came short.

“Blasted rats,” the guard muttered, and started back on his patrol.

On the way to their empty room, Hiccup whispered, “The Knight Commander is getting suspicious. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight today. Snotlout is worse. He’s following me around, trying to catch me breaking a rule or anything he can use against me to make me look bad.”

“He’s upset you beat him,” Astrid said.

Hiccup shrugged. “I’m not sure I’d call it ‘winning.’ I’d rather have lost and listen to Snotlout gloat than have him trying to trip me every time I walk through a doorway. And, I’m sorry, my lady, but I couldn’t get to the practice swords. Snotlout seemed to know that’s where I wanted to go. He guarded it like a dog.”

“That’s alright, Squire,” Astrid said. “I’m sure there is much more you can teach me without swords.”

He half-laughed, and looked to the ground. “Dragons?”

She grinned. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten.”

“It’s hard to,” he said, “when it comes from you.”

She felt the red blush her cheeks. “And I’m sorry that this has been causing you so much trouble. I will defend you if it comes to that. I promise. This entire affair is more my fault than yours.”

He smiled, and in the dark and flickering candle light she thought she saw a blush across his freckled nose.

He said, “It’s worth the risk. I-I like spending time with you.”

They both blushed, and neither tried to hide it.

 

X

 

               “The Monstrous Nightmare is badly tempered,” Hiccup said. “Not unlike Snotlout. He holds a grudge. Their fire is like liquid, and burns even under water for a while.”

               They sat across from each other on the floor. Hiccup told her what he’d learned about dragons so far, about the history, the different species, the different classes. He spoke with such earnest and passion, it melted her heart. He spoke with his hands, arms, and his shoulders; she could watch him speak for hours.

               “The Nightmare, Deadly Nadder, and Gronckle were the most common species in this part of the kingdom,” Hiccup said. “And as people moved around, the dragons began to move around, and soon we had Hideous Zipplebacks, Snaptrappers, and Changewings.”

               “What is a Snaptrapper?”

               “It’s a four-headed dragon,” Hiccup said. “It supposedly opens all of its jaws and poises like a flower, then lures its prey with an enticing aroma.”

               “Wow,” Astrid said, hugging her knees to her chest. This almost reminded her of the stories the old, gray-haired servant would tell, but that dear woman had been gone for some ten years.

               Hiccup yawned, despite trying to hold it back.

               Astrid spied the candle. They’d nearly used it up. She leaned forward and patted Hiccup’s knee. “We’d better get to bed before we’re missed.”

               “You’re right,” Hiccup said.

Astrid smoothed out her robe and dusted off anything that might have clung to her rear, and then picked up the candle. She said, “I hope this will be enough to get back.”

Hiccup stepped around her and opened the door, and stepped through; he turned to hold it open for her, but his face had gone white.

Astrid opened her mouth, but the booming voice of the Knight Commander echoed through the corridor, “Hiccup!"


	6. Chapter 6

 

Chapter **6**

 

               The color dropped from Hiccup’s face and his green eyes widened. He stammered over several words, but nothing coherent left his lips.

               “What in Thor’s name are you doing?” Stoick thundered. He stomped down the corridor, each step shaking the stone. “Are those practice swords? You realize you are breaking half a dozen Knight rules?”

               “I-I…” Hiccup stammered. He stumbled back several steps.

               Astrid’s heart felt like it might burst. Hiccup’s eyes darted from his father to Astrid. The door hid her from Stoick’s direct view.

               “Who is with you?” Stoick demanded. His footsteps came closer.

               Astrid had heard Stoick shout, but she’d never been so close. She’d never heard him so angry. It shattered the courage she thought she’d have.

               “Snotlout was right,” Stoick spat. “You’ve been spending the evenings consorting with the help, haven’t you? _My_ own son. Do you realize how this looks? On you? On _me_?” Stoick reached the doorway, and without looking, he grabbed Astrid’s arm with one of his massive hands. His grip tightened and she let out a small yelp.

               “Dad,” Hiccup tried to speak, but Stoick hushed him.

               “I knew letting you join the order was a mistake. You should be at home with your mother. I shouldn’t have let…” Stoick’s burning eyes glanced down at Astrid, the servant he thought he held by the arm.

               “Oh…” Hiccup said, hands outstretched, eyes narrowed in worry. He drew his hands back toward himself and pressed his knuckles to his lips.

               Stoick’s entire face paled, not unlike his son’s a moment before. His bottom lip trembled.

               “Knight Commander,” Astrid said calmly, “if you would be so kind as to release me, I would be grateful.”

               “Oh!” Stoick removed his arm, and she pulled it back toward herself, cradling where she’d likely have a bruise. Stoick, as she’d never seen him, fell to the floor before her, hands and knees pressed to the stone. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t realize…please, find mercy. I meant no harm.”

               “But if I had been of the lowly help, you would have?” Astrid asked.

               Stoick hesitated. “My deepest apologies, Princess. The Knight Order has its rules. No one outside the Order may know it’s secrets. For my son to have told them to another, it would have been treason.”

               “But to me?” Astrid asked.

               “Your father knows many of the secrets we hold,” Stoick said, talking to the floor. “One day those secrets will be told to you.”

               Astrid took a deep breath and held her shoulders straight, dignified and proud like a queen ought, and clasped her hands together in front of her. Despite the trembling in her stomach and knees, she stood quite still.

               “Hiccup has done nothing he hasn’t been asked,” Astrid said. She glanced at Hiccup. He stood open-mouthed, clutching the fake swords as if he might need them to protect himself. “Rise, Knight Commander.”

               Slowly, Stoick stood.

               “Princess, forgive me, but you asked my son here?” Stoick asked.

               “Yes,” Astrid said plainly. “I want to learn to sword fight. Yet my father forbids me from learning. Hiccup is teaching me instead.”

               Stoick glanced between Astrid and Hiccup. “I see. That is where you’ve been running off to.”

               Hiccup nodded.

               “Snotlout convinced me that you’d been meeting some salty maid up here,” Stoick said to Hiccup.

               Astrid wasn’t sure what Stoick meant by ‘salty,’ but by his tone and assumption, she knew it meant something unkind.

“Dad,” Hiccup said, wincing. “You know me better than that.”

               “Aye, that I do, and should,” Stoick said. He half-laughed. “But this isn’t what I expected.”

               “Knight Commander,” Astrid said, keeping her dignified stance. “I implore you not to tell my father about this.”

               “Your Grace,” Stoick began in an argumentative tone.

               “A queen ought to know how to defend herself,” Astrid said. “I will not hide behind men to do my fighting for me.”

               Stoick closed his eyes, and nodded. When he opened them, he looked older. He looked between Astrid and his son again. He said, “I don’t like it, but if Your Grace demands it, I will keep your secret.”

               “Thank you, Knight Commander,” Astrid said.

               “You’ve always been stubborn, Your Grace,” Stoick said, a hint of a smile on his lips, half-hidden by his beard. “There is hardly reason in arguing.”

               Astrid smiled. “That in itself is reason.”

               Stoick half-laughed. “Of course. Now, it’s late. Hiccup, return to the dorm. Your Grace, allow me to escort you back to your chambers.”

               “That is alright, Knight Commander. If it wouldn’t trouble you to miss Hiccup a while longer, I would prefer that he walked with me,” Astrid said.

               Stoick didn’t speak for a moment, and he nodded. “If that is what Your Grace wishes.”

               “It is.”

               “So be it,” Stoick said, nodding. He held his hand out to Hiccup, who handed over the practice swords.

               “M’lady,” Hiccup said, waving his arm toward the corridor.

               Astrid retrieved the candle, and followed Hiccup for a few steps before stepping quickly to walk beside him. He opened the secret door into the servant’s passage, and held his hand out to her. She rested her palm into his, and stepped gingerly into the servant’s passage. Hiccup followed, and shut the door.

               On the other side, Hiccup heaved a breath. He brought his hands up to his head and rubbed his eyes. Astrid reached out for his hand, and wiggled her fingers into his. She smiled, but he didn’t return it as genuine as he had before.

               His father hadn’t moved outside; she dared not speak.

               Astrid led the way toward her bedchambers. After a while, Hiccup spoke.

               “I’m sorry,” he said ruefully. “And…thank you. You didn’t have to stand up for me. It’s not like I’ve never heard my dad yell at me before.”

               “Nonsense,” Astrid said. “You shouldn’t have to face punishment for doing what you’re told. I promised that if you were to be caught, I would stand up for you. I meant it, Hiccup. You shouldn’t get in trouble because of me. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

               “Thank you,” he said.

               Astrid glanced behind her. Hiccup wore a face she couldn’t read. Relief? Worry? Uncertainty?  

               They reached the secret door closest to her room, and she opened the door. It came out on the other side of a scenery painting of Berk’s gardens during summer. No servants lingered in the corridor, and she stepped to her chamber door with Hiccup shortly behind.

               “Will you find your way back to the dormitory?” Astrid asked.

               “I will as long as I can stay in the main castle,” Hiccup said.

               Astrid spun in the middle of the corridor; her skirts swished around her legs. She held out her hand to Hiccup, and said, “Thank you, Squire Haddock, for keeping me safe during the harrowing journey back. I am certain that I would have perished if not for you.”

               He blushed, and a genuine smile crept over his lips. He gently took her hand, and lowered his lips to her knuckles.

               “Anything for M’lady,” he said, hot breath against her hand.

               He straightened, and slowly released her hand. With no one watching, Astrid stepped toward her squire, and kissed his lips. He jumped at first, but his lips molded onto hers. Butterflies, or maybe tiny dragons made of feathers, flew around her stomach and flapped their tickling wings into each of her limbs, every finger and toe, until she thought she might take flight herself. Luckily, she had Hiccup Haddock to keep her grounded. When their lips parted, she wanted nothing more than to collapsed into his arms and stay there all night.

               But she didn’t. She met his gaze that mirrored her longing, or so she desperately hoped, and matched his grin.

               “Goodnight, Squire Haddock,” Astrid whispered.

               “Goodnight, my Princess,” Hiccup said.

               She would likely dream of him, and wanted to tell him so, but she held her tongue. Such words were not meant for the moment. They were of lovers and letters. Perhaps one day she would say such words to Hiccup Haddock, but that day lay beyond tomorrow, when she would be Queen Astrid, with a king to sit beside her. A wild thought ran through her sleepy mind, of Hiccup sitting beside her, not as a Squire or a Knight, but as a King. _Her_ king.

               Hiccup stood in the corridor while she entered her bedchamber, and she stood on the other side of the door while his footsteps trailed away. She readied for bed and led the fanciful thoughts of love and a warm future entertain her as she waited for sleep.

 

X

 

               Gods, what had he gotten himself into? Hiccup rubbed his face as he started back toward the squire dorms. Had he honestly fallen in love with the princess? He couldn’t have fallen for someone obtainable, no, he had to go for the top of the food chain.

               Princess Astrid.

               Yet, she had kissed him. She’d looked at him like _that_. What did it mean? He desperately wanted to believe that she might feel something of the same toward him, but he doubted it. He was the convenient link between her and what she wanted: to learn to swordfight. If any other squire had been in the woods that night, he would be training her instead of Hiccup. Or she, if it had been, by some strange humor, Ruffnut.

               Hiccup rounded the corner, but stopped short by a sudden blockage in the corridor. His father. Stoick stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, with the same look of disapproval that he’d worn earlier.

               Hiccup jumped back a step.

               “What are you doing?” Stoick whispered.

               “I, uh, thought we went over that,” Hiccup said, he pointed over his shoulder, toward Astrid’s bedchamber.

               “The _princess_?”

               “Trust me, I am as surprised as you are,” Hiccup said, shrugging. His father still carried the practice swords. He hadn’t gone back to the dorm at all. He’d followed. Hiccup’s heart skipped a beat…had his father been watching? Had he seen her kiss him?

               “You’re playing a dangerous game,” Stoick said. “One that if you lose could mean your life.”

               “What are you talking about?” Hiccup asked.

               “The princess,” Stoick whispered. He glanced around for listeners, then added, “and you.”

               “What about…us?” Hiccup asked. The use of the word to refer to himself and Astrid felt strange and wonderful on his tongue.

               Stoick sighed. He glanced around suspiciously. “Come with me.”

               Hiccup followed his father down the corridor and to an empty lounge. Stoick hurried him inside and shut the door. He walked to the far side of the room and stood beside the dark, ash-free hearth.

               “Let’s say the princess decides you are a risk,” Stoick whispered. “She might think you might tell her parents what she has been up to. She doesn’t want that, so she gets rid of you.”

               “Why would she do that?”

               “Women are tricky,” Stoick said. “Royalty is even worse. Let’s say you two are alone, practicing, and she gets mad. She then claims you’ve raped her.”

               Hiccup coughed, and said, “I wouldn’t do that! She knows that. She wouldn’t…do that.”

               “It doesn’t matter,” Stoick said. “It would he her word against yours, and the court wouldn’t even hear your side of the story. You’d be dead before you’d get the first word out.”

               “She promised me that she’d stick up for me,” Hiccup said, “and she did. To you. She told me she wouldn’t let me get into trouble for asking me to train her.”

               “Today,” Stoick said. “Women change as they age.”

               “She won’t change like that,” Hiccup said.

               “Or,” Stoick said, “Let’s say that by some grace of Thor she’s fallen in love with you. You break her heart, you’d as good as dead.”

               Hiccup’s face burned. “I-I wouldn’t…do that.”

               Stoick’s eyes widened. “Gods, son, don’t tell me.”

               “Don’t tell you what?”

               “Have you fallen for her?”

               Hiccup looked away. He would rather not have this conversation, especially with his father that he rarely spoke to. Regardless, he didn’t know if he could answer that question. A negative response felt like a lie, but a positive response felt strange and foreign and he didn’t know what to do about it.

               Stoick sighed and rubbed his temple. “You’ve gotten yourself into a mess.”

               “Tell me about it,” Hiccup said.

               “And if her parents find out,” Stoick started, then groaned. “You’ll be in a bigger mess.”

               “The king won’t kill me, will he?” Hiccup asked. He respected the king greatly, especially from the way his own father talked about him, but he hadn’t taken into account that it was his daughter he spent his evenings with.

               “Well,” Stoick said, “if he hears that his daughter has gone behind his back and purposeful done something that he had forbade her to do, he will not be happy. And, if he finds out that it was you who taught her that forbidden something, he will also be angry at out. He will be angry as your King, but he will also be angry as a father, which, depending on his mood, might be a death sentence.”

               “Astrid promise not to let that happen,” Hiccup whispered.

               “Pray to Odin that she’s not bluffing,” Stoick said. “For her sake, and yours.”               

               Hiccup groaned and rubbed his eyes. Why did Thor think it funny to saddle him with all these secrets? Sooner or later one of them would be his undoing. Which one would it be?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

               Astrid was waiting inside the servant’s passage for Hiccup, but she didn’t wait long. His quick steps sounded in the hall and the door opened. He held two practice swords. He shut the secret door with time to spare before the guard returned. Astrid led the way through the winding servant’s passage to their secret room.

               The week following Stoick’s discovery of their late night meetings, he had kept his word to keep the secret from the queen and king. He had, as Hiccup confessed, provided a distraction so that Hiccup could steal away without notice, and deflected any such rumors that Snotlout might have started.

               “Snotlout’s trying to make me look bad,” Hiccup said, as they parried back and forth.

               “He’s jealous,” Astrid said. She could see many reasons why, but she didn’t want to voice them in front of Hiccup. She would turn a fiery shade of red.

               “He’s always been like that,” Hiccup said. His feet moved quickly, and he spun around; his sword’s edge smacked her lower back. “Got you.”

               “That makes it two to three,” Astrid said, although he probably let her have both of her wins.

They reset, and started again.

She said between clanks, “But the night’s not over.”

He smiled at her from between their crossed swords, and she wished the night would never end, or at least go on for considerably longer than it would.

Hiccup didn’t always bring swords. He told her about dragons, and occasionally he would talk about the other squires, the pressure, or anything at all, and she wouldn’t interrupt. She would let him speak; he spoke freely when he let himself, and she liked it. She liked the way his mind worked, how he organized his thoughts, and how he felt about the world around him. She’d never met anyone remotely like him, and she wanted his time for herself.

Astrid no longer had to lead him to the servant’s passage closest to his dorm, but she wanted to. In case someone accused him of being out after hours, or of anything he hadn’t done, she would be there to protect him. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her squire.

“Thank you,” Astrid said as they reached the secret door into the hall outside the squire’s dorm. “I mean it. I appreciate you for doing this for me.”

He reddened. He started to speak several different words, but nothing came out. he chuckled, and finally said, “Anything for my lady.”

She held out her hand and he took it, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. He rested his hand on the secret door, but he hesitated. He met her eye, and they leaned toward each other. His lips met hers and they kissed for a short, sweet moment.

The guard passed, and Hiccup left while he could, and Astrid stood for a moment behind the painting, hand over her heart. She walked back to her room with thoughts of Hiccup in her head, and collapsed into her bed. 

 

X

 

Astrid woke not to Helga, but to Lady Heather.

“Get up,” Heather said in an excited whisper. She pulled on Astrid’s arm.

“What?” Astrid said, letting Heather pull her into a sitting position.

Heather smiled widely, her cheeks red and her green eyes wide. “They’re here!”

“Who is here?”

Heather’s smile faded slightly, and she gave Astrid that good-humored disapproving look. “You really don’t know?”

Astrid shook her head. Had she missed something?

“The Crowned Prince of the Shivering Shores,” Heather said, grinning. “He, his wife, and his nephew, Duke Eret Hogton.”

“Oh,” Astrid said. Those names sounded familiar.

“How could you forget? Your father has been talking of nothing else since their letter came,” Heather said. She threw open Astrid’s wardrobe. “You’ll need to dress nice for breakfast. The servants have been fussing over the Sunny Parlor all morning.”

“The Sunny Parlor?” Astrid asked, yawning. Her father saved that room for important but friendly negotiations. The tall windows let in bright light from the east and southeast, allowing much time for talking and eating and drinking, should the talking require it. As far as she knew, Berk did not have trouble with the Shivering Shores. They’d been allies for a long while and aided each other in battle.

“This one,” Heather said, holding a gold and white dress apart from the others. “This one will look lovely against the marble in the parlor.”

Astrid let Heather help her wash and dress, and guide her to the Sunny Parlor. The castle’s servants were in a tizzy, running about, talking quickly to one another, about this and that; the guardsmen had been increased, maybe even doubled.

She’d known about the visit; she had been told. But her mind had been thinking of Hiccup and the training, and little else had stuck to the front of her mind. On the walk to the parlor, she recalled her mother speaking of the Shivering Shores during her lessons, and her father during meals.

How could she have forgotten such an important visit? What kind of Queen let fanciful thoughts of men invade her better thinking? She liked Hiccup, a lot, but she had a kingdom to think about first.

The Sunny Parlor had been cleaned, polished, and shined. Under the eastern sun, the marble floors gleamed and reflected the colors of Astrid’s dress. Her mother sat at the round table as the servants arranged the food and plates, the good silver and china.

Astrid sat beside her mother.

“Good morning, dear,” her mother said. “Your father will be along with our guests shortly.”

“Why didn’t we greet them with him?”

“Tradition, dear,” her mother said, as if Astrid should have known. And she did. Again, Astrid silently berated her scattered thoughts.

               Tegard was escorted into the room, and sat on the other side of their mother. He looked tired and annoyed, as usual.

               “The ruling king or queen always meets our guests at the door, and walks with them to the meal,” Astrid repeated from her memory.

               “Of course,” Queen Lenora said.

               And when they arrive, they all stand, Astrid told herself. She tried to recall the Crowned Prince of the Shivering Shores, but all she could picture was the ruling King. Older, gray haired, trimmed bread, with wrinkles like a leather handbag.

               When the doors to the Sunny Parlor opened, the escort of knights entered first, then stood on either side of the door. Several filed into room to stand at separate points; Hiccup had told her about it. They align themselves to better protect an entire space, so no corner may be unseen.

               Queen Lenora stood, as did both her children, so that when the procession led by King Arvid entered the Sunny Parlor, they stood ready to greet them.

               King Arvid entered alongside the Crowned Prince, Rellam, whose face Astrid immediate knew. How had she forgotten? He looked like his father, but forty years younger and still dark-haired.

               “Ah, here we are,” King Arvid said. “Love, this is The Crowned Prince of the Shivering Shores, Prince Rellam. My wife, Queen Lenora. My daughter, Princess Astrid, and my son, Prince Tegard.”

               “A pleasure, Your Grace,” said Prince Rellam, in a practiced, kind tone. He motioned to the woman standing just behind him, matronly and kind-faced, looking radiant in blue. “This is my wife, Lady Emily, and our son who turned seven before we set sail, Tellgam.”

               The young boy looked mortified to be addressed, and clutched his mother’s hand tightly.

               “He’ll warm up,” Prince Rellam said. “And this my nephew, born of my dear sister, Duke Eret Hogton, the third.”

               The young man who’d stood behind the procession stepped forward. Eret had the same dark hair as his uncle, but stood an inch taller with a broad chest and strong arms. He bowed deeply and said in a calm, smooth voice, “My pleasure, Your Grace, for this chance to finally meet.”

               They were seated; King Arvid and Prince Rellam sat opposite each other, with their families arranged between them; Astrid was seated beside Eret, which she found odd. She always sat beside her mother or father, not beside her brother.

               Over the meal, King Arvid and Prince Rellam spoke of political climates and projects in both kingdoms, a droning talk to fill the space.

               “Politics,” Eret said to Astrid. “I’ll never understand them.”

               “They have their place,” Astrid said. “To discuss and come to a verbal conclusion before the physical problem can be solved.”

               “That sounds like a textbook answer,” Eret said, he wore a smile well.

               “It might be,” Astrid said, sipping her pear and peach juice.

               “Of course, it would make sense for you to know these things, you’ll be Queen one day,” Eret said. “I am glad I was born out of the throne’s sights. I dislike the stress it brings.”

               “I dislike it as well, but someone has to sit upon it.”

               “Better someone knowledgeable and intelligent, which, from what your father says about you, you will be a fine Queen.”

               “Thank you,” Astrid said, although she noted the strange tilt to his voice, as though her father’s words were meant to be a compliment from Eret.

               “I’ve heard a great deal about you,” Eret said, leaning closer to her. He dropped his voice into a sultry whisper and added, “Not all from your father. You’re a well-loved royal, it would seem. No doubt Berk will flourish with you as a ruler.”

               His words rang with truth, but his voice triggered a strange sensation in her gut that she didn’t much appreciate. It felt somewhere between nerves and excitement. She said a simple thank you to Eret, and brought her juice back to her lips, and wished that it would turn to wine and make this meal less strange.

               Eret continued to speak flowery compliments of her, and she merely thanked him; what does one say to such constant compliments? The first had spoken some truth, or had seemed to, but with each he spun his words felt more and more rehearsed, false, and accustomed to charming women.

               At last, her father spoke to the entire table. He motioned to the young prince, Tellgam, who only replied after being coaxed by his mother.

               King Arvid smiled at the boy with the same smile he sometimes used on Tegard, when he didn’t open his mouth to ruin his royal façade. He then turned his attention to Eret, and Astrid was glad to for the distraction.

               “Duke, your uncle tells me you are unmarried,” King Arvid said.

               “Yes, Your Grace,” Eret said.

               “A young man like you, unmarried?” King Arvid said, smiling. “The young women must be lining up to meet you.”

               Eret chuckled, a practiced sound. He said, “The castle guard keeps them at the gates.”

               King Arvid laughed. “There are many fine young woman in Berk, as well, including my dear Astrid here.”

               Astrid nearly choked on her juice, but managed to keep it from dribbling down her chin.

               “Wouldn’t that be something,” Prince Rellman said, motioning to Eret and Astrid. “It wouldn’t be the first time our kingdoms united by marriage.”

               Astrid caught her mother’s glance. Astrid held her posture, despite the sudden turn of the talk. She wanted to say something about being able to find her own husband, or be able to rule without one, but none of the words made it into the conversation. Her father and Prince Rellman fell into a talk of how many marriages had laced together Berk and the Shivering Shores.

               Eret said something to her, but she ignored him. She did not want to talk about marriage this morning, let alone hers to a stranger. She wouldn’t hear of it. Her mother glanced at her, but Astrid held her eyes to her plate, and struggled to finish it.

               The thoughts of the past few days of Squire Hiccup on the throne beside her fell into shatters, but she couldn’t replace him with Eret. He didn’t fit into the daydream. She would love to have Hiccup beside her, to talk to, to discuss matters with, to share a bed. Eret…didn’t feel right.

               At last, the meal ended, and a tour of the castle began. Astrid trailed behind her father and the visiting family, and walked beside her mother instead. Tegard walked sheepishly behind his father, looking for ways to escape.

               “What do you think?” Queen Lenora whispered as they walked between towering suits of polished armor. Decorations, not functional wear.

               “Of what?”

               Her mother smiled. “Of Eret.”

               “Oh,” Astrid said. Her mother ran her arm through hers, and held onto her hand. “He seems like a nice young man. I hear he’s captured every heart in his own kingdom, and has left a trail of swooning girls on the way to the castle.”

               “He’s a womanizer,” Astrid said.

               “That might be an accurate description,” she said.

               “I don’t want to marry him,” Astrid said firmly. “You can’t make me. I won’t.”

               Her mother squeezed her hand. “I didn’t say you had to. But, remember that a Queen needs strong allies. There will be kingdoms that think you are weak because you are a woman. You will need strong ties to allies. Marriage is one of those such ties. If you marry him, the Shivering Shores will always be on your side.”

               Astrid let out a short sigh. Talks like these reminded her that the kingdom would one day rest on her shoulders. She didn’t like them.

               “But,” her mother added as they turned into the library after the main procession, “that doesn’t mean you have to marry him. It is an option. You may marry whomever you choose, a chef, a magistrate, or a squire.”

               Astrid’s face burned at the mention of the squire.

               “Dear,” her mother said kindly, “I know about your mystery squire, but your father doesn’t. He only sees your future, and the future of our kingdom when he suggests these things. You can tell him no, but I suggest you do so when our guests are not around. They might see it as a rejection, which might crack our alliance with the Shivering Shores.”

               “Why not marry Tegard to one of their daughters?” Astrid asked.

               “I’m not sure they have a daughter that could put up with him,” her mother said with a faint smile. “As I know, they don’t yet have a daughter of marrying age. But that is also an option.”

               They continued through the library and wound their way to the courtyard, where the squires preformed for their guests. They parried and sidesteps with skill and talent brought about with adept hands forged by practice. Astrid spotted Hiccup among them, and kept her eyes on him as he fought with the others. They did not fight to win, but merely to showcase their talent, which had grown. Their numbers, Astrid noticed, had shrunk. Hiccup noted every so often that another squire had either failed or left.

               “Are those two twins?” Eret asked Astrid, leaning closer to her seat.

               “Yes,” Astrid said, taking her eyes off Hiccup to find the blonde twins. “Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston. Ruffnut is the only woman among the squires, and she’s done well so far.”

               “That’s a girl?” Eret asked, a normal tone falling into his voice. His brow scrunched and he looked closer at the two. “Oh.”

               Astrid chuckled. “She’s better than half the boys.”

               “She looks like a boy.”

               “Only because there is a boy who looks just like her,” Astrid said. “And she’s wearing a squire’s clothes. Put her in a dress and I’m sure she’d look like a lady. As would you.”

               Eret shifted in his seat. “The clothes do make the man, I suppose.”

               The afternoon came, and Astrid joined her family and their guests in the Sunny Parlor for lunch. They spoke of the squires, of the castle, and of things changed and things to be changed. Afterward, King Arvid stood, and asked Astrid if she would show Eret the gardens.

               Astrid set her goblet on the table, prepared to excuse herself, and caught her father’s stare. It hadn’t been a request. In a second breath, he asked his wife to show Lady Emily the piano room.

               She understood; he wanted to speak with Prince Rellam without the crowd to listen. It wasn’t meant to push her and Eret together, but to give him some quiet time to speak of kingly things to his guest.

               “Of course,” Astrid said, standing. “Right this way, Duke Eret.”

               She led him into the corridor, followed by her mother and Lady Emily and her young son, and they parted into different directions. Eret spoke calmly along the way, of differences between his castle home and hers, but he spoke fondly of both.

               They reached the main entryway to the gardens, and slowed their pace once outside.

               “Lovely view,” Eret said.

               The flowers branched out in wide colors and sizes, over archways in tangled vines and leaves. A fountain dropped water over a colorful collection of marble-sized pebbles.

               She scanned the forest for dragons, although she knew they wouldn’t come this close to the kingdom. They were skiddish around people, Hiccup said. They lived in the deep wilds where people didn’t go, like the far north where ice ruled and the wastelands, where only the toughest dragons lived.

               “I hear there used to be dragons in these woods,” Eret said.

               Astrid jumped; had he read her thoughts? “Yes, I’ve heard the same, although I can’t speak from personal experience.”

               “My father took me dragon hunting once,” Eret said, “before they vanished.”

               “Did you see any?”

               “We spotted this water dragon, I forget what he called it. It could spit boiling water instead of fire, he told me, but it didn’t come near us. It swam underwater, like a great winged fish, and vanished.”

               “A Scauldron,” Astrid said.

               “Yes, that’s the name,” Eret said, grinning. “You know your Dragons, eh?”

               “I’ve read about them,” Astrid said.

               “Which is your favorite?”

               “I don’t know, there are so many,” Astrid said.

               “Alright, if you were to meet a dragon in these woods, which dragon would you rather it be?”

               Astrid thought on it a moment, although she’d thought about it many times. She said, “A Deadly Nadder.”

               Eret raised a brow.

               “I think they’re a fascinating species,” Astrid said. “They can shoot razor sharp spines with pinpoint accuracy. They’ve got a fine sense of direction and smell.”

               “My father’s brother has an arrowhead made from a Nadder’s spine,” Eret said. “He’s got it in a case so no one can touch it. He says that the spine of a Nadder doesn’t dull like iron or steel. It stays as sharp as it was when the dragon shoot it.”

               “Where did he get it?”

               “He’s told me about five different stories,” Eret said. “From the dragon itself when it attacked him, from dragon hunters, from a good hand at a poker game, or, the most likely, he bought it from a trader.”

               “Wow,” Astrid said, eyeing the tree line. She’d only seen drawings of Deadly Nadders. She’d love to see one in person, even at a distance.

               Eret filled their walk through the garden with other such stories, and by the time they’d wound around the garden, Astrid decided that she could stand Eret, despite his arrogant way of speaking. He wasn’t terrible, but he was certainly not Hiccup Haddock.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've really been enjoying this story.

 

Chapter **8**

 

Astrid met Hiccup in the tower that evening. He handed her the practice sword, and they parried through the evening’s fading hours. Hiccup had stopped playing it easy with her, and she found her reactions quicker, surer, and neither of them landed a blow on the other.

She told him about the visitors from the Shivering Shores while they caught their breath. She spoke the way she did around Hiccup – openly. He wouldn’t reprimand her, like her mother would, for such thoughts of visiting royalty, nor would he look down on her for un-queen-like thoughts, like her father.

Hiccup kept his thoughts to himself as she spoke.

“I’m just not sure what to think about Eret,” Astrid said, staring out through the thin window. Lanterns and candles dotted the kingdom below. She shifted the dull blade in her hand as she spoke. The training had taken her mind off the Duke for a while, but her mind kept returning.

Hiccup shuffled his feet and studied his blade. His green eyes wore an expression that Astrid couldn’t break. He often wore that look, enigmatic and fascinating, and she wanted to know his thoughts. According to his face, he thought of something brilliant and intelligent, and she desperately wanted to know what it was.

“I know my parents are thinking about marriage for me,” Astrid said. “I’d rather them not. I can take care of myself. Eret seems nice enough, but there is something about him that I don’t trust completely. I’m not sure where he stands or where his moral compass points.”

               “A marriage isn’t for certain,” Hiccup said. “It might not happen.”

               “That is true,” Astrid said. “Although, if marriage wasn’t on the table, my state of being unmarried wouldn’t have been mentioned, at least not in front of everyone. I suppose I understand. My father worries about my future. He worries about the kingdom. If I married, my husband’s family could then try to steal power from the throne, or dethrone me and insert their will onto the land.”

“Like your Great, Great Grandfather Edmond,” Hiccup said.

               “Yes,” Astrid said, nodding. He knew that? Of course, the squires would have been given history lessons, too. “His first wife tried to assassinate him so that she and her brother could rule.”

“But he caught her, and had her beheaded,” Hiccup said.

               “Exactly,” Astrid said, pointing her sword’s tip at him. “I could always have Eret beheaded, but then that would no doubt bring an uproar from the Shivering Shoes, whether he deserved it or not. Therein lies the other problem. Whomever I marry would have claim to the throne, and the people supporting my husband would have power against me should something happen between the king and I.”

“Do you think Duke Eret plans unseat you?”

               “I’m not sure,” Astrid said. “Our families have married before. We’ve a strong alliance with the Shivering Shores. It wouldn’t make much sense from a historical standpoint to try to seize power. However, at the same time he isn’t of Berk. He might not hold Berk’s interests as close as his own home.”

               “If he marries you, Berk will be his home,” Hiccup said, a slight deflation in his voice.

               “To an extent,” Astrid said. If she hadn’t been the first born, she might have married elsewhere, become a Queen or Princess of another land, but Berk would always remain her home. Astrid milled about the tower’s room, fingering the dull edge of the blade. “I often wish that I hadn’t been born into this position. There are so many things that I can’t avoid or choose out of selfishness, like marriage. It’s not really my choice, is it? I’m thinking about other people when I choose a husband, the people, not myself.”

               To this, Hiccup didn’t speak.

               Astrid turned to him, and asked, “What do you think of the Duke, Hiccup?”

               Hiccup’s unreadable gaze shifted to meet hers. He shrugged. “I don’t rightly have a strong feeling for him. I haven’t spoken to him personally. You’ve more experience with the Duke than I.”

               “Knights are trained for first impressions,” Astrid said, the words his from another session. “What is your first impression of Duke Eret?”

               Hiccup searched the dull blade for something unseen, his green eyes thinking, not telling. After a long moment, he said, “He seems like a gentleman.”

               She noticed the slight tense in his voice, like he had more to say. She took a step closer, and asked, “Anything else?”

               Hiccup continued to search the blade. “He walks proud. He seems to value his status.”

               “I agree,” Astrid said, nodding. “I suppose I do as well, most of the time.”

“But you’re different,” Hiccup said. He wore a pleading expression she’d not seen before.

“How so?” she asked, barely a whisper in the quiet tower.

               “You know your role,” Hiccup said. “You know that you will become Queen one day, and you take this with responsibility. You’re not gloating or boasting about it. It is an honor for you, a burden that you take because you know that you can handle it. You are aware that your actions will affect thousands of people. You’re…Queen material.”

“You think so?”

               He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Thank you,” she said, unsure of what else to say. He’d not spoken so favorably of her before, at least not aloud and in her presence.

She felt her face redden. Hiccup had gone a bright shade, too.

She lurched forward in good humor, striking Hiccup’s sword, and he jumped back. His surprise did not last not, for he jumped at her, and they were at war again, clinking and clanking back and forth, until they were both breathless. At last, Astrid swatted his shoulder.

               “That blow would have taken off your head,” Astrid said proudly.

               “Or at least maimed me for life,” he said. He tried to smile, but it faltered into a straight line.

               “Hiccup? Are you alright?” Astrid asked. Had she hit him that hard?

               “Yes, I’m tired from the day,” he said. “It’s getting late. We should head back.”

“Of course,” Astrid said, although they’d stayed up later before.

               She handed him her sword, and he shut them into the servant’s passage. That way, he didn’t need to carry them back and forth from the squire’s training hall to the tower. Stoick had found two extra swords for them so that two would not be missed on the rack. The servants rarely used this passage, so Astrid deemed them safe.

               With the swords safety tucked away, Hiccup held the door to the passage open for Astrid. She stepped through first with a curt thank you, as due him. They walked together back to Astrid’s room, with only the candle to part the silence.

               They arrived in the corridor outside Astrid’s bedchamber, and she hesitated to enter. She wanted to kiss him again, but he wore such a sullen expression she didn’t feel the timing right.

               “Are you certain you’re alright, Hiccup?” Astrid asked softly. She set a hand against his chest.

               “Yes, Princess,” Hiccup said.

               “Princess?” Astrid repeated. She liked the sound of her real name on his lips better.

               Hiccup stepped back and took her hand from his chest. He held it in his hand, and brought her hand up to his lips as he gave a curt bow.

               She had kissed him on the lips, why did he not kiss her? A kiss on the hand felt so impersonal after such personal kissing.

               “You are sure you’re alright?”

               “Yes,” he said, eyes elsewhere.

               “Squire Haddock,” Astrid said, straightening her shoulders. “You’re lying to me. I demand that you speak the truth.”

               Hiccup sighed, and released her hand. “I am alright, my lady. Duke Eret doesn’t seem like a bad man. If he was, the Knight Commander would have been talking about him, but he hadn’t mentioned him once.”

               Oh. Of course, she’d spoken about Eret most of the evening, and her supposed marriage to him, all in front of a man she had kissed.

               “It’s about Eret?”

               Hiccup’s frown deepened and he looked away from her.

               Astrid said lowly, “He’s nothing like you.”

               “Of course, he’s not,” Hiccup whispered. “He’s royal, big, strong, and everything a man should be. Trust me, my father’s spent years listing manly qualities to me.”

               What should a young woman do? Astrid had been trained on diplomacy, history, and arithmetic, but she’d never been taught what to do in the face of two men, both of which seemed to teeter into her life as more than friends.

               “Hiccup,” Astrid started to say, to explain herself, but footsteps sounded in the hallway. Before the two of them could part ways and avoid the walker, Duke Eret came into the corridor.

               “Ah, there you are, Astrid,” Eret said loudly. His voice echoed down the corridor. “I’ve been looking for you. This castle gets bigger in the dark.”

               “You shouldn’t wander alone,” Astrid said. “You might get lost.”

               “Then next time you’ll accompany me,” Eret said, gesturing toward her with this thick arm. Eret turned to Hiccup, who looked as though he’d been caught sneaking cookies from the kitchen. “Thank you, Squire, for bringing her majesty safety to her chambers.”

               Hiccup shrugged, and said, “I couldn’t let her walk alone with all those robbers and trolls and gnomes that come out at night.”

               Eret frowned, brow furled, but Astrid let out a girlish giggle. She laughed at Hiccup’s remark, but she laughed at Eret’s confused face. She caught Hiccup’s eye, and smiled at him. He gave a weak smile in return.

               “Well, if you two will excuse me for the night, I must retire,” Astrid said, and bid them both a farewell nod.

               She opened and closed her bedchamber door, and pressed her ear to the seam.

               “What are you doing, Squire?” Eret asked in a tone that was not unfriendly, but curious.

               “I walked the Princess to her room, as you suspected,” Hiccup answered.

               “From where?”

               Astrid held her breath; they hadn’t prepared a lie in case they were found.

               “I ran an errand for the Knight Commander, and I saw her walking alone from the library, I accompanied her,” Hiccup said without pause.

               “Such the gentlemen,” Eret said.

               The two men began to walk away from her door.

               “I hear that’s a necessity for the best knights,” Hiccup said.

               Eret laughed, and said, “I suppose it is. Well, I know the way back to my chambers. Goodnight, Squire.”

               “And to you, Duke,” Hiccup said.

               Astrid changed, washed her hands and face, and crawled into her bed.

 

X

 

               After breakfast and a short lesson on inter-kingdom manners, Astrid joined her family and their guests from the Shivering Shores at a show arranged by the knights and squires. The squires dressed in full armor. They carried shields and swords, although they were not as sharp as real swords.

               The event had all the looks of a tournament, without any of the risk of bloodshed or death. Astrid sat beside Eret, but not of her choice. Her father had chosen her seat.

               The match began with the armored squires marching onto the courtyard. They marched mostly in unison; a few were off. Astrid had seen the Order march in parades. They marched in perfect rhythm with each other.

               “You know the Berkian Knights are legend,” Eret said, mostly to Astrid, but he spoke loud enough that everyone in the royal box could hear him. “Every knows about Knight Commander Haddock. He’s a fierce force.”

               “That he is,” King Arvid agreed. “The best Knight Commander we’ve had in hundreds of years.”

               The squires stood at attention in two lines, facing each other, and upon Knight Commander Haddock’s command, positioned their shields. Upon his second command, they drew their swords.

               “Their timing is a bit off,” Queen Lenora said.

               “Typical for the squires,” King Arvid said. “It takes months of practice with the knights to be in step with the rest.”

               The squires ended the opening ceremony, and the combat began. With the full armor, the rounds lasted longer.

               “I can’t tell them apart,” Eret said, complaint on his tongue.

               “The purpose of the armor is to protect their faces,” Astrid told him. “Not so you can see their eyes.”

               Eret laughed, and said, “Thinking about eyes? I must admit, Squire Haddock does have a lovely set of green eyes.”

               Queen Lenora made the slightest of noises. “I didn’t think men noticed such things, Duke Eret.”

               “I normally don’t,” Eret said. “But we shared a few words last night, and I happened to notice.”

               “You visited the squires?” King Arvid asked.

               Astrid’s entire body froze. She turned to Eret, and time seemed to slow. Eret turned toward her father, and she grabbed onto his arm to silence him, but he’d already opened his mouth to speak.

               “I met him in the corridor outside your daughter’s bedchamber,” Eret said casually.

               The air in the box stiffened.

               Eret continued in the same casual manner, “It seems he couldn’t let a lady walk from the library to her bedchamber in fear of trolls.”

               No one laughed.

               Astrid focused on the wood of the box. She felt her parents’ eyes shift to her. she couldn’t breathe.

               “You were in the library last night, Astrid?” King Arvid asked.

               She knew that tone. It didn’t matter if she lied or not. He knew the answer. She nodded, and without looking at him, she said, “Yes. Squire Haddock walked me back to my room.”

               “Strange thing, considering the squires spend their free evenings on the other side of the castle. I don’t recall seeing you or Squire Haddock near the library.”

               Astrid’s bones turned to ice. Eret shifted his gaze to her, seemingly aware that he had stirred that which did not need to be touched. He looked at her apologetically, but his feelings felt false. _He_ was not in trouble, after all, or being scolded in front of guests.

               “Nothing immoral happened between us,” Astrid said, knowing that it would suggest that something had. “Squire Haddock is a knight if I’ve met one.”

               King Arvid’s fury stayed behind his eyes. The first match in the courtyard had ended, and the crowd cheered. King Arvid clapped his hands twice, then settled them on either side of his chair. Without looking, he said to Astrid, “Young lady, apparently, these squires are causing you too much distraction. You’re to be escorted back to you chambers until the match is over.”

               “Father,” Astrid tried to argue.

               “I will not hear another word about this,” King Arvid said, calmly as he could while seething each word with venom.

               Astrid felt tears sting the corners of her eyes.

               “Please, let me walk with you,” Eret said. He started to stand, but Astrid held up her hand.

               “I’d rather go alone,” Astrid said, and Eret plopped back down into his seat.

               Astrid forced herself to leave the royal box with as much grace as she could, but once past the view of anyone, she ducked into an empty lounge. She pressed her palms to her eyes to keep the tears at bay, but it didn’t work. They ran down her cheeks.

               Her father knew. Or he suspected. He’d find out.

               She wouldn’t let them hurt Hiccup. He’d done nothing. She would protect him in any way she could, even if she had to hide him in her closet.

               After the tears ended, she wiped her eyes and started toward her room for a wash. She made it halfway there when she reconsidered.

               No. She would not give in. She would not be pushed around. She turned around, and started back toward the courtyard.


	9. Chapter 9

Astrid stormed into the empty squire room. The tears she refused to cry had turned into something else; a fiery determination set her bones on fire. With all the squires and knights in the courtyard putting on their show, no one stood in her way.

She found the suits of practice armor well enough. She grabbed one about her size, and after looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her in, she stripped herself of her dress.

She'd never worn armor, but it felt protective, albeit clunky and loud. Armor would be useless in a stealth attack. Of course, armor had been made for combat, not stealth.

She twisted her braided hair up and held it in place as she lowered the helmet down. Fully armored, no one would know her face.

Astrid stepped as quietly as she could to the courtyard's door. The squires not engaged in a battle would be standing with their backs to it. All she had to do was slip out the door and into the crowd of other armored squires without anyone noticing.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open. From the sliver she could see, all backs were turned. She pushed the door a little more. No one turned around. With all the clanking of swords and armor on the courtyard, the sound of the door made no noticeable noise.

Astrid slip through the door and closed it gently behind her. She took calm steps and joined the back of the crowd. One tall squire to her left glanced in her direction; nonchalant blue eyes gazed out through the helmet. Astrid feared a questioning, but no sooner did this squire look, then he looked away.

The battles continued, one team after another, in the middle of the courtyard. Astrid put her hand on her sword. She could still turn and walk away. She didn't have to go through with this. No, she had to do this. She would prove herself to them all, mostly her parents. She was no delicate little bird to be protected and guarded; she could look out for herself and would.

She followed the line of squires. With every battle, she got closer to the front of the line. The crowd cheered with each battle, each parry, and each defeat and victory. She couldn't tell who was who among the squires. This close, she couldn't find Hiccup in the crowd.

At last, with her heart beating faster than she thought possible, her turn in the battles began. She griped her sword like Hiccup had taught her, and as her opponent thrust, she parried and sidestepped.

She won.

She mimicked the bow she had seen the other squires give to their opponents and rejoined the others in line. She did not glance at Stoick. She did not want him to suspect anything amiss. She did not want him to question the extra squire in the yard.

Astrid won her next battle and the battle after that; she won each she took part in. It filled her pride. Whether she'd fought Hiccup, she didn't know. She didn't have time to find her opponents' eyes among the helmet. She worried that if she fought him, he would recognize her fighting style, or her eyes, or something. She didn't want him to worry about her. She could handle herself.

Overtime, the squires sat out with their defeat. The winning squires numbered less with each battle, and yet Astrid remained in the ranks.

Had Snotlout not spoken, no one would have known him, either. Yet he had. In each battle, he taunted and flaunted, laughing and jeering. He won most of his battles, except for one silent squire she hadn't fought. Her instincts told her that had been Hiccup.

One by one the squires retired to the defeated line. The squire she assumed to be Hiccup lost to Snotlout in their second battle, which left her and Snotlout as the final two squires. Somewhere, the gods were either laughing and waiting for her disaster, or they had given her a golden chance.

The battle started with a fierce thrust by Snotlout.

"Aw, can't hit any harder?" Snotlout taunted, laughing as though he'd made a marvelous jest.

His jeers didn't work on Astrid as they did they others. She saw them as his defense mechanism. He wanted to ensure his victory, which meant he did not believe he had the skill enough to do so without taunting. She saw his attempts to belittle the enemy, thus exposing his own cowardice.

The battle raged on. She parried and countered, but he parried and countered, too. Then, at last, when her breath ran ragged and sweat singed along her spine, she saw her opening. She wasn't thinking of anything else but winning. She struck.

Snotlout lost; the crowd erupted.

Astrid's heart hammered. She'd won. What was she thinking? She should have let him win.

"Our victor!" Stoick's voice rose above the cheering crowd. Suddenly, he stood beside her, a smile on his face. "Let's see the face of our victor."

Astrid froze; she hadn't planned this far. Everyone in the courtyard watched her. They stood on their feet. Her father rose. Her mother stood serene beside him. Tegard looked ready to jump into the courtyard.

"Squire," Stoick said, more commanding, "Remove your helmet."

Astrid glanced at him. His eyes met hers. A crease formed between his eyes. Confusion drifted over his pride.

He knew.

Astrid sheathed the sword at her side and lifted her hands to either side of the helmet. She grasped it and lifted. She kept her eyes forward.

She heard the collective gasp rush through the crowd. She met her father's gaze; his rage silently fumed underneath his skin. It pushed the blood from his cheeks and into his nose and ears. Her mother shook her head, eyebrows as high as they could be. Tegard looked disappointed. He frowned and sank back into his seat.

Murmurs started.

Among them, Eret laughed. He laughed heartily and proud. He motioned toward the courtyard and said loud enough for all to hear, "Looks like you've got your campion. I'd follow her into battle."

Astrid couldn't tell if he joked or not, and she found it irritating. Her father seemed to share the same confusion over Eret's words.

King Arvid exclaimed, "Our victor."

Behind her, a squire said, "Wow, Snotlout, you got beat by a girl."

"Twice," another, distinctly feminine, added on the heels of his words, chuckling.

"Shut up," Snotlout spat.

Stoick cleared his throat. The chitchat among squires stopped.

Astrid couldn't decipher the expressions among the crowd. Some look shocked, others impressed, others impassive, some confused. They all whispered. Some openly pointed.

It seemed her father knew not what else to say. He'd prepared a speech for the winning squire, of bravery and future endeavors in the knighthood, but he remained silent.

Astrid spoke, "The honor is mine."

Then she turned and retreated to the dorms. The squires shuffled to clear her a path, gawking. A few had removed their helmets, but she did not pause to see if Hiccup stared. She met the dorm door and went inside.

She started to pull off the armor, but her hands shook more than she realized.

The door opened, and quick footsteps rushed inside.

"You're amazing," Hiccup said, breathless and wide-eyed. He came to the armor stand, helmet in hand. "You're crazy, but amazing."

Astrid smiled, although her nerves erased it. She said, "I feel crazy. My father looked furious."

"Why did you do it?" Hiccup asked.

"To prove that I could," Astrid said.

"To who?"

"My father, mostly," she said, yanking feebly on the armor.

"Here, let me help," Hiccup said.

Hiccup's deft hands undid the leather straps holding the armor together and helped pull it from her. He set it piece by piece onto the stand.

"It was still amazing," Hiccup said.

"I had a good teacher," she said.

Free of the armor, she realized she stood in her underdress. She felt the blood rush to her face. Hiccup, smart as he was, reached to the floor for her discarded dress.

"Thank you," Astrid said, taking it from him. She stepped into it and in a few short moments, re-laced it as best she could with her nervous fingers. "I daresay I might have fought better in this. The armor is too heavy and feel clunky."

"It's more fitting of you," Hiccup said.

"How so?" Astrid asked. She must have asked it sharply, because he jumped.

"I-I mean, it looks nice on you. Better than the armor does," Hiccup said. His eyes fell to her waist and he tried to make a motion, possibly to point out of the figure-flattering dress, but he couldn't.

Astrid felt the warmth in her chest that Hiccup often brought, but she hadn't the time to dwell on it. She heard the clamor of the squires leaving the courtyard. She'd rather not be found by them.

She grabbed Hiccup by the collar of his armor and pulled him downward to meet her. She kissed him, and for a moment he seemed too startled to react. Then, he returned her gesture. She broke the kiss at the sound of the dorm door and departed with a warm smile to Hiccup.

She went the long way to the corridor to avoid the squires and made it as far as the lounge closest to the library when her father caught up with her. He hadn't brought his guests or his men or knights. He stood impassive in the hall, frowning and fury-eyed.

"What were you thinking?" King Arvid demanded, his voice little more than a venomous hiss. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Astrid stood her ground. She held her shoulders like a knight, and said, "I proved myself."

"You proved that you are stubborn," King Arvid said. "You proved that you cannot be trusted to follow the rules I set before you."

"I did nothing of the sort," Astrid said. "Just because I'm to be Queen, doesn't mean I can't handle a sword or defend myself."

"You've made a fool of the squires," King Arvid spat, stepping closer to her with every word. "You've made a fool out of me, in front of guests, no less. You are a lady, a Queen, not a solider. Such behavior is unbecoming of a Queen."

He stopped within arm's reach of her, but she refused to back down. Astrid opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand.

"I forbid you from watching the squires' performance," he said. "And I forbid you from learning anything of the sort of knighthood from any of the squires, knights, or anyone else. You're a lady, do you understand?"

Astrid stood frozen, dumbfounded by the order. As his words sank in, she shook her head, saying, "You can't be serious!"

"I am," he said. "I will have no more of this behavior in my household."

"No," Astrid said. "Being able to fight is a trait of a strong leader."

Seething, King Arvid grabbed both of her upper arms. She winced under his grip. He hissed, "You will stop this nonsense. You will stop playing Knight or I will exile that squire from the order myself."

"Stoick would hate you for it," Astrid said. And so would she.

King Arvid seethe another moment. His grip on her arms tightened, and for a fearful moment, she thought he might toss her backward. Her father had never laid a hand on her, but she had never seen him as furious.

"Stay away from the squires, all of them," King Arvid said. He released her arms. "Get to bed. We're dining with our guests tomorrow morning."

Astrid didn't wait to hear anything else he said. She turned and walked away, posture perfect, all the way to her bedchamber. Inside, she slumped behind the door and felt the tears welling behind. She changed out of her dress and into a simple shirt and pants. She rang the bell by the door that would ring in the servants' quarters. Soon, a young girl knocked on her door. Astrid ordered a platter of tea and cookies, and the girl ran off down the hall toward the kitchens.

Astrid washed her face and hands while she waited. When a knock landed on her door, she rose, expecting the servant with her requests, however she found someone else standing on the other side.

Squire Hiccup.


	10. Chapter 10

               Hiccup stood in the hallway, looking worrisome and excited. At the sight of her, he smiled. Astrid felt a smile break over her anxiety, too, and then she remembered her father’s words.

               “Get in,” Astrid said. She latched onto his sleeve and yanked him inside. She closed the door.

               “Are you okay?” Hiccup asked.

               “If my father sees you with me,” Astrid said, nervously, “he’ll remove you from the squires.”

               “What?” Hiccup said. His excitement from the moment before vanished. “Why?”

               “Because Eret and his big mouth let it slip that you were with me that night,” Astrid said. “And now my father knows that you’ve been training me.”

               Hiccup panicked. “I-I should go, then.”

               Another hand knocked on the door, this one smaller. Hiccup’s face paled.

               Astrid motioned to the adjoining bathroom, and off he ran, stepping as quickly as he could. He vanished into the shadows of unlit room.

               Astrid answered the door to find the servant girl with her platter of tea and cookies.

               “Thank you,” Astrid said. She took the tray and the girl ran off again. She nudged the door closed with her foot and walked the tray over to the small table beside the bookcase.

               Hiccup ducked out from the bathroom.

               “It is safe,” Astrid said. “I asked for tea.”

               “Oh,” Hiccup said. He swallowed. “I-I…noticed there were guards standing at the end of the hall, and so I used the servants’ passage.”

               “There are guards?”

               Hiccup nodded. “Two of them. They’re on either side of the corridor. You can’t see them from your door, though, so I think I made it without them knowing.”

               “He’s put guards on me,” Astrid said. Her father didn’t trust her enough to let her alone in her own bedchamber! He thought he could control her.

               “Astrid?”

               “It’s infuriating to be treated this way,” Astrid said. “I am a princess, a future queen, not some invalid or common criminal to be locked away.”

               “I’m sorry,” Hiccup said, stepping out of the bathroom and to where she sat.

               “You have done nothing to apologize for, Hiccup,” she said. “Please, sit with me for a while, if you’ve the time.”

               “Can I? Will we get into trouble?”

               “Not if we don’t get caught,” she said.

               Hiccup sat down in the chair beside her. He wrung his fingers together. “Astrid, I-I don’t think you understand my position. If I get kicked out the squires, I-I don’t know what I’ll do. I couldn’t face my father after that, and I’m hardly good at anything else. This…this is all I’ve got, Astrid. I can’t lose it.”

               Guilt emerged in her chest and squeezed tight. She poured herself a cup of tea before she answered, “I understand. If you no longer wish to see me, I understand.” The idea of pushing him away felt like a sickness rampaging slowly through her, like poison. “I don’t want you to feel obliged or imprisoned. Do what you feel you must, Hiccup.”

               Astrid took a drink of her tea, but it did nothing to quell the panic rising steadily in her hands. Without Hiccup…what would she do? Go back to daydreaming about dragons from her bedroom window? Plan her wedding with Duke Eret?

               He sucked in a breath, but she held her eyes on her tea. She couldn’t look at him. She would fall apart.

               “Astrid,” Hiccup said gently. He made the smallest of movements.

               She waited for him to touch her, but it never came.

               Maybe he didn’t feel the same.

               “Look, Astrid, I-”

               “If you’re going to leave, then just leave,” she spat, biting back the welling feeling of worthlessness that bubbled up behind her eyes, forcing out hot tears onto her cheeks. She bent her head down so he wouldn’t see them.

               _Don’t cry in front of him._

               He stood.

               She bit her tongue to keep herself from letting out a sob.

               Hiccup took slow steps to the door. Astrid squeezed her eyes shut tight. He left. She listened to the sound of his soft steps across the hall, to the secret passage, and couldn’t hold it in any longer. She choked on a sob, spilling her tea. She half-dropped the cup back onto the platter and buried her head in her arms, pushing her palms into her eyes.

               She wanted to run into the corridor after him, but she didn’t. She shouldn’t. She had a kingdom to think out, a people, not just herself.

 

X

 

               Astrid watched the next few days pass in a blur. She attended her lessons. She spent time in the library. She spent as much time away from her parents and their guests as possible. When asked, she claimed not to feel well. Her mother knew it a lie, but she didn’t pressure Astrid into the truth.

               A week passed and then another, and soon it had been nearly a month; Astrid couldn’t bare it any longer. She snuck through the servants’ passage to the squire’s practice. One or both of her parents attended each session now, and she couldn’t watch from the king’s box. But she could squeeze through the servants’ passage, up into the rafters of the king’s box, and watch with a bird’s view of the training.

               It was not ideal, but it was better than sitting in her room staring at the window, or rereading about Headless King Herald, who beheaded eighteen servants and six wives during his five year reign as king. (His son, who’d go one to rule a peaceful kingdom for the next seventy years, killed him in his sleep.)

               From her hidden perch, she watched the squires practice footwork, armor care, and stances. She picked out Hiccup, tall and gangly, from the crowd of them. At the sight of him, her heart panged.

               It’s how it must be, she told herself.

               Astrid left the rafters of the king’s box before the practice ended. She did not want anyone to wonder where she’d gone. After finishing her lessons and having dinner with the guests, which she was again forced to sit beside Eret and listen to him talk about how great he is, Astrid used the servants’ passage to sneak up to the tower were she and Hiccup had often practiced.

               She waited a while, but he didn’t show. She didn’t know why she expected him to. On the way back to her room, she decided she’d gone because she’d hoped that he felt the same sort of longing to see her.

               Perhaps he didn’t.

               Twilight had fallen while she’d gone. Through her bedroom windows she eyed the endless forest. The tress barely stood out against the inky sky.

               Astrid was gazing without looking at anything particular, when something caught her eye. Something moved along the tree line, something dark, almost black – she squinted. The thing rose up and for a moment the barely-lit twilight framed a black dot. Wings moved from the dot, massive wings, up and down, and then the thing vanished back into the forest.

               Astrid’s heart rose into her throat.

               “A dragon,” she whispered; her breath fogged her window.

               She stood, and fell against the glass. She flattened her hands on it, watching the spot where the black dragon had vanished. She waited, but it did not reemerged from the forest.

               She’d seen a dragon. There was no other explanation for it. A dragon, in her forest!

               Without thinking, she grabbed her cloak and dashed out into the corridor as silently as she could. She peered either way, but saw no one watching her. Like Hiccup had said, the sentries were posted far enough away that she couldn’t see them from her door. Luckily, her father didn’t know she used the servants’ passage.

               Astrid raced along the passage, keeping an eye open for servants, and to the kitchen. She eased out into the cupboard, through the empty kitchen that still smelled like the roasted mutton they’d had for dinner, and out into the darkness of the still night. The air had gone a bit muggy and Astrid’s dress started to cling to her back.

               Astrid made it to the edge of the forest. She paused to glance back at the castle, but no one made a fuss to run out after her.

               She heaved a breath, then she heard it – footsteps. Soft, casual, cautious footsteps, one after the other – human.

               Who would be sneaking around the woods at this hour?

               Astrid snuck closer to the footsteps, until only a massive tree separated her from the walker. She tiptoed to one side to peer around, however, unbeknown to her, the walker on the other side happened to use the same caution; as Astrid peered around the other side of the tree, so did he. Their noses came within an inch of one another.

               Astrid jumped back, as did he, but her breath caught back up with her shortly.

               “H-Hiccup?” Astrid gasped, hand on her chest.

               Hiccup glanced her up and down, both startled and relieved. He shook his head at her, and said, “What are you doing out here?”

               “What are _you_ doing out here?” Astrid demanded.

               “I-I went for a walk,” Hiccup said, obviously lying.

               Astrid narrowed her gaze. Hiccup twitched. Smiling, Astrid said, “I know exactly what you were doing.”

               “You do?”

               “You saw that dragon, too, didn’t you?”

               Hiccup’s eyes widened and his brows shot upward into his bangs. “D-dragon?”

               “I saw it fly over the forest. Black as night!”

               Hiccup twitched and glanced anywhere else. He stuttered, “Yes, I-I saw a dragon.”

               “You ran out to see it, too,” Astrid said.

               “That I did,” Hiccup said. “But I-I didn’t find it.”

               “You didn’t?”

               “Nope,” Hiccup said. “By the time I got to where I thought it was, I didn’t find anything. I wandered around, but I didn’t see any sign of a dragon. It must have been just one of those giant freak birds. No dragon.”

               “I know what I saw,” Astrid said firmly. “It was no bird. It was a dragon.”

               “Whatever you say, Princess,” Hiccup said with a bow of his head. “But, seeing how late it is, we both should be getting back to the castle.”

               Astrid huffed. “You don’t need to worry about me, Squire, I’m not afraid of a dragon.”

               “You may not be, but I am afraid of your father, and of mine, and I must insist we return to the castle,” Hiccup said, taking a step toward the castle.

               “But why pass up this chance to hunt a dragon?” Astrid pressed. “Surely, you see the grand opportunity here?”

               Hiccup sighed, opened his mouth to speak, when another, deeper male tone filled the air: “Who’s there?”

               Instantly, as if jumping from a fire, Hiccup and Astrid jumped to hid themselves behind the massive tree. They stood close together; Astrid felt his warm breath on her nose. For balance, he rested a hand on her waist; she grabbed onto his shirt. In fear of being spotted or heard, neither made the slightest move or sound.

               “Blasted squirrels,” muttered the sentry, who sounded to be on the other side of the very tree they hid behind. “King needs to open the season back. Kill off about a thousand of them blasted demons. Stealing a man’s biscuit...I hate squirrels.”

               The sentry stomped away. He didn’t carry a torch, which Astrid figured is why she didn’t see him first.

               Neither of them moved. They listened to the sound of the sentry’s slow steps fade. Astrid kept her eyes on his chin, the fine auburn hairs there, but as the steps grew quieter, she chanced a glance; she met his eyes, which had been resting on her hairline. As her eyes flickered upward, his flickered down.

               Astrid could no longer hear the sentry, but she didn’t want to move.

               “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

               His hand on her waist twitched.

               “Tell me you missed me,” she said, her voice barely audible.

               “I have,” he whispered. “A lot. More than I realized I would. But, Astrid, you’re a princess, soon a queen, and I’m just…”

               What he was, Astrid didn’t pause to find out; she pushed herself upward onto her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against his. He hummed his surprised, but returned her kiss.

               When they parted, Astrid said, “You’re you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

               Hiccup made a strange sound, like a choke and a gasp. The hand on her waist twitched, and he slid his touch around to her back, pulling her closer. Astrid returned his embrace.

               She said in his ear, “We can’t meet every night, but I want to see you. Once a week, at least.”

               “I will try my best, M’lady,” he said.

               “The normal spot in the tower,” she said. “We don’t have to train. We can just talk, or we don’t have to say anything at all.”

               “As you wish, M’lady,” he said.

               Astrid was reluctant to let go of him, but she did as she must. They parted with a longing look and went their separate ways back into the castle. Astrid paused at the kitchen door, but didn’t seen him through the growing gloom of night.

               The sentry’s footsteps approached once more, and Astrid slipped back into the darkened kitchens. She snagged a muffin as she headed back to her room via the servants’ passage with a lightness in her chest she hadn’t felt in a while.

               Hiccup. A dragon.

               She’d seen birds. She’d seen pictures of dragons. That was no bird she saw flying over the forest. It was a dragon, no matter what Hiccup said. He undoubtedly felt that stubborn sense of pride and protection that men felt toward her, the princess, as if she couldn’t handle herself outside the safety of the castle walls, as if she needed rescued.

               Her ancestor, King Rogger the Revered, had hunted a dragon as the crowned prince; he’d hung the skull over his throne as a warning to all those who entered. How incredible, how formidable would it be, if she, Queen Astrid, had a dragon’s skull hanging over her throne?


End file.
